


Maneuvering Landmines

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Glee Angst Meme, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Sulkygeek, and pooped out a really self-absorbed vainglorious baby, it’s like a Korean soap opera and Mexican telenova got together, maybe you will cry, this story is so over the top melodramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 92,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rachel fathers died when she was young and she is raised in the Fabray's household. From the moment that Quinn laid eyes on Rachel they felt this overwhelming need to protect her from harm and they develop a close almost inseparable bond. Those feelings of being safe and wanting to protect turns into something else, something that you're not supposed to feel for your sister (even if she is adopted). In middle school towards 8th grade Quinn try to shove those feelings down and cover it up by being mean and hateful towards Rachel. But even through the torture and humiliation Rachel still has those intense feelings of being in love with her sister and wanting to be with her. Will Quinn be able to stop trying to shove the feelings that she has for Rachel before it's to late? Or will she push Rachel farther away than she already has?Bonus for having Brittany and Santana be close friends with Rachel.Note: first half of this story is more from the Quinn perspective, the second half is more from the Rachel perspective and so it all kind of balances out.Warnings: Rape warning in chapter 5 (it’s not particularly graphic, but the incident comes up again in more detail in chapter 9) Potentially triggery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Maneuvering Landmines](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/388343) by Sulkygeek. 



**Title:** Maneuvering Landmines  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R  
**Length:** 92,812 total [over 14 parts], 6711 for part 1  
**Spoilers:** Through Journey  
**Summary:** Based on a glee angst prompt,  ** _What if your true soul mate was your. . .sister?_**   ** _(even if she is adopted)_** \- This EPIC prompt was issued by [](https://avadacantare.livejournal.com/profile)[**avadacantare**](https://avadacantare.livejournal.com/) and apparently she liked it, so yay! I feel pleased. I would have been in a well of despair and rejection if it was hated.

PROMPT: <http://community.livejournal.com/glee_angst_meme/3065.html?thread=2697721#t2697721>

Bonus for having Brittany and Santana be close friends with Rachel.

Note: first half of this story is more from the Quinn perspective, the second half is more from the Rachel perspective and so it all kind of balances out.

Warnings: Rape warning in chapter 5 (neither Quinn nor Rachel perpetrates it against the other, and it’s not particularly graphic, but the incident comes up again in more detail in chapter 9) Potentially triggery.

* * *

  
Chapter 1

 

This is what Quinn remembered of the day she first met Rachel:

It was the day after Christmas.

She was sitting in the kitchen with her mother, eating a leftover Christmas cookie in the shape of a bell. She was keeping her mother company while her mother cleaned up the kitchen after lunch. Her dad was at work. Her big sister, Aubrey, was upstairs doing God knows what. Aubrey was twelve and enjoyed reminding Quinn of that fact, especially when Aubrey was using it as an excuse for why Quinn couldn’t be around her. Her mother had just started the dishwashing cycle when the phone rang and her mother answered it.

Quinn watched her mother’s face which twisted into an expression that Quinn had never before seen. Quinn’s mother sat down into a chair at a table and listened quietly on the phone, barely saying a word.

Once she was off the phone, her mother addressed her.

“Go upstairs, get changed and tell your sister we’re leaving.”

Quinn didn’t ask any questions. Back then, she loved her Daddy, but her mother was her hero. Her mother was prettier than any Barbie doll she had and could fix almost anything. When her mother told her to do something in that tone, Quinn just did it. Most of the time, her mother listened to everything her father said, and her father tended to get his way, even if it was in opposition to what her mother wanted. But when her mother got a certain look on her face, or said something a certain way, no one, not even her father said anything to oppose it.

And so that day, Quinn slid out of her chair, ran out of the kitchen-- skidding a little on socked feet and ran up the stairs to tell her sister it was time to go. Quinn could tell her sister wanted to protest because the current war between Aubrey and their parents was over Aubrey’s insistence that twelve was plenty old enough to stay at home by herself for a few hours, but their parents disagreed. Quinn wanted to point out their parents had a point. Just last month Aubrey nearly burnt the house down cooking a hash brown.

“Mom says we’re leaving _now_.”

It said something about being sisters that Aubrey could see from the look on Quinn’s face that it really was time to leave, because her protests died in her throat and she just made sure Quinn was appropriately dressed for the weather before she took her little sister by the hand and led Quinn downstairs to their awaiting mother. Aubrey was frequently dismissive, but Quinn could count on her to be a good older sister when it really mattered.

They drove to the police station where Quinn laid eyes on Rachel Berry for the first time and it would be one of those memories that would remain especially vivid for Quinn, despite their young ages at the time.

They were both four years old, though Quinn pointed out that she’d been four much longer than Rachel had. (Rachel, eight days, Quinn, eight months).

Rachel was quietly crying and hiding behind a police officer’s leg when the Fabrays were introduced to her.

Judy Fabray crouched down, reached for Rachel and hugged her close. Rachel was small for being four and fit snugly in Judy arms. Rachel didn’t squirm or try to get away, but her crying got louder.

“I don’t know you,” Rachel said, voice quavering.

“I was your daddy’s friend,” Judy murmured, trying to comfort her. “Don’t be afraid.”

Quinn approached them and petted Rachel’s hair, wanting to comfort the other girl as best she could. Something about seeing Rachel cry just _hurt_. Seeing Rachel cry made Quinn feel sad and Quinn just wanted to make Rachel feel better so she could stop crying. As far as Quinn knew, people only cried when they were sad.

Even as an adult when Quinn was better equipped to connect all the dots, she was mystified by how she was so affected by the sight of Rachel crying because she wasn’t a child who was considered particularly empathetic or sympathetic. She was the baby of her family and generally coddled by everyone so she never had to worry much about how other people felt-- people cared about how _she_ felt. But in that first moment, all she wanted to do was to make Rachel feel better.

“Don’t cry, my mom gives the best hugs. You’ll feel better.”

That seemed to calm Rachel down a little bit because her crying softened until she was just taking huge gulps of air trying to calm down. She sniffled occasionally, but soon, she’d stopped crying completely.

The first time Quinn got a solid look at Rachel was when her mother gently pulled away after breaking the hug. Rachel’s left eye was bruised and swollen shut and her left cheek was bruised, too. She was wearing a long-sleeve purple shirt and blue jeans. Quinn stared at the stains all over Rachel’s clothes which were a dark crusty red.

“What happened to you?” Quinn blurted.”What’s on your clothes?”

Aubrey gave Quinn a hard pinch on the arm and put her hand over Quinn’s mouth.

Quinn was gearing to bite her sister’s hand because she hated it when Aubrey silenced her that way but then Aubrey spoke.

“Not right now, squirt,” Aubrey whispered.

Quinn remembered her mother was ready to take Rachel with her, but the police stopped her by informing her that Rachel’s grandparents were en route.

“But _I’m_ Samuel’s emergency contact!” Judy protested.

“I realize that, but after we contacted you, the little one said she had grandparents and she knew their names, address and phone number. They’re family, so we had to call them, too.”

Later, Rachel sat in between Quinn and her mother in the children’s room at the police station, clutching each of their hands. Aubrey sat on the other side of Quinn and turned toward Rachel to make funny faces in an effort to make Rachel smile and laugh. Rachel laughed softly and Quinn felt a flare of jealousy that Aubrey had been the one to make Rachel laugh and not her.

But she was still the one holding onto Rachel’s hand.

They talked about movies and TV shows, but a lot of Rachel’s favorites were ones that Quinn never heard of before and Rachel didn’t seem like she wanted to talk, it seemed more like she was talking because Quinn wanted her to talk. (As very young children, this would be a pattern-- Rachel, somber and contemplative almost to the point of depressed muteness but speaking because Quinn wanted her to, until Rachel learned to fill the silence with babble and became known for being hyper loquacious.)

After a while, they just sat in silence and eventually Rachel fell asleep curled up in the chair. It was a hard plastic chair and couldn’t be particularly comfortable. Quinn watched with a spark of envy when her mother picked Rachel up and settled the other girl into her lap. She was used to being her mother’s baby and it was a shock to see her mother cuddling some girl she didn’t even know, even if she was fairly certain that Rachel was her best friend in the world.

“Don’t be jealous, my love. Rachel had a bad day,” Quinn’s mother explained, seeing the look on Quinn’s face. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Okay,” Quinn said simply.

Quinn, Aubrey and their mother stayed with Rachel at the police station until her grandparents came to retrieve her.

Rachel’s grandparents and Judy Fabray greeted one another coldly.

Quinn observed them and didn’t like way they were mean to her mother _and_ her new friend. They didn’t even _look_ nice.

Rachel’s grandfather yanked Rachel to her feet and pulled her along by the wrist to the exit of the police station faster than Rachel could keep up even though she was running. Then he yelled at her when she couldn’t keep up and dropped her hand once they were outdoors. Rachel was quiet and somber and just tried to keep up the best she could.

Quinn, Aubrey and Quinn’s mother followed them to the parking lot where Rachel scrambled to keep up with her grandparents, running on small legs. Quinn’s mother picked Quinn up, held her close and scurried to catch up to them. Once she did, she grabbed Rachel by the hand and guided her to her grandparents’ waiting car.

“Do you have a car seat?” Quinn’s mother asked, peering into the backseat that definitely did not have a car seat.

Quinn was in a booster seat now, but Rachel was small enough that she still needed a car seat.

“It’ll be fine, Judy” Rachel’s grandfather said gruffly. “She isn’t a baby.”

“It’s against the law,” Judy Fabray said firmly. “She’s too small, she needs a car seat.”

“Well, it’s none of your business,” Rachel’s grandmother snapped. “She’s _our_ granddaughter.”

Rachel was practically tossed into the car by her grandfather and then they were driving away.

“They’re mean,” Quinn whispered worriedly, watching the car get further and smaller. She was still cuddled against her mother’s body and she buried her face into her mother’s neck. For a moment, Quinn thought her mother was going to follow after them, but then her mother seemed to remember that she was there. “They were scary.”

“I know, baby,” Judy said softly. “But Rachel is going to come live with us soon. That’s your new sister, okay, baby? But we’re just going to have to wait for her to be able to come home.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

\--

The next time Quinn saw Rachel was at the funerals for her fathers-- both held on the same day. Rachel was standing in between her grandparents. Rachel happened to turn around and saw them. Her face lit up and she moved toward them, but she was grabbed by her grandfather and pulled back. He bent down to speak to her and Quinn saw Rachel’s lower lip quiver. But Rachel gave them a bright smile and a small wave and Quinn waved back until Aubrey elbowed her and told her to show a little decorum.

They only had a brief chance to talk after the funeral-- Quinn didn’t even get to exchange more than a ‘hi, how are you?’ Her mother bent down to hug Rachel and scooped her up. Her mother held Rachel close against her chest for a few seconds before she set Rachel down. When Judy asked Rachel how she was doing, Rachel gave her a bright smile and said everything was fine, but her lower lip and chin both wavered.

“I have to go,” Rachel said quietly, running toward her grandparents who were gesturing to her.

 

 

\--  
When Quinn got older, she found out that her mother had been close friends with Rachel’s father, Samuel, since they were in middle school.

“I would have married him if he’d been straight. He and I talked about getting married anyway and starting a family and raising children together because we did love one another and the most important thing about a family is love. But then he met Paul. And then, of course, I met your father.” She sighed. “We were all very young…” she said wistfully.

Her mother told her this one night when Quinn was twenty two as they cried over Cadillac margaritas and a basket of just-fried tortilla chips and extra spicy salsa.

Her mother’s friendship with Rachel’s father became somewhat strained when her mother married her father, who disapproved of Samuel’s “lifestyle,’ but her mother stayed in contact with Rachel’s father over the phone.

It was a testament to their friendship that although they lived in the same town but communicated only by telephone, and that they had similarly aged children who never met, she was still Samuel’s emergency contact when he and Paul, Rachel’s other father, were killed.

In that moment, it didn’t matter to her that her husband frowned upon her friendship with Samuel-- when she heard that Samuel and Paul were killed in an alleged gaybashing and their four year old daughter was a witness to the crime, Judy Fabray put friendship first. She rushed to the police station thinking she could take her friend’s child home with her, only to be told that Samuel’s parents were already on their way.

It didn’t make sense to her considering Samuel’s parents claimed they had no son.

But when she saw the way Rachel’s grandparents treated her, even though it was _hours_ after the child witnessed her parents’ murders, Judy Fabray was determined Rachel would come home with her and her family. She knew Rachel’s grandparents had rights to her, but they didn’t seem to _want_ her and Judy did. She also remembered them very clearly from when she was growing up with Samuel.

“Sam was good to me,” Judy said wistfully. “He was sweet to me even when I was unkind to him. He was the sort of friend you could mistreat and abandon and he would still be there when you realized that you made a mistake.”

Quinn’s eyes filled with tears and she hung her head at the description of Rachel’s father which seemed to be so fitting of his daughter, too.

“We promised each other in college that we would take care of one another, no matter what,” Judy said softly. “After Aubrey was born, I made him promise that if anything ever happened to your father and me, he would take care of her. I made him promise again after you were born. He said of course he would.” Her mother gave her a weak smile. “Rachel had some complications after she was born.” She sniffled. “I never really knew exactly what they were, just that Sam and Paul were more concerned with making sure _she_ stayed alive. I suppose that’s why they never made arrangements for her care in the event something happened to them because I know Samuel would have preferred Rachel go into foster care than live with his parents.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Were they that bad?”

Judy smiled sadly. “Why do you think I fought so hard to get her? I knew when I looked at her that she was meant to be ours,” Judy said, wiping at her eyes. “I knew she was meant to be my daughter and a part of our family. I knew she was meant to be your sister.”

Quinn swallowed hard. She’d known from the moment she looked at Rachel that Rachel was meant to be a part of their family, too. But even back then, she never quite felt right about the ‘sister’ part.

\--

Quinn spent the next three years after meeting Rachel just waiting for Rachel to finally come home. She spent those three years listening to her mother argue on the phone with attorneys, Rachel’s grandparents and in person with Quinn’s father. Quinn knew her mother went to court for Rachel, but she and Aubrey were always in school when their mother went. She was jealous of her mother because she knew her mother got to see Rachel at these court dates but Quinn’s mother always brought something back for her from Rachel, a letter, a toy, or a trinket of some sort, so it _almost_ made up for it. Almost.

She, her older sister and her mother visited with Rachel two times a week at a police station in Marion, which was the only neutral location midway between their two cities that Quinn’s mother and Rachel’s grandparents could agree upon.

It was always fairly uncomfortable, at least physically. They couldn’t even use the children’s room even though every police station had one, because it wasn’t set up for visitation. So, Quinn, her sister and her mother just sat in the lobby with Rachel, eating food and talking. Rachel always seemed happy to see them and the visits with Rachel were always the highlights of Quinn’s week. The seats were always hard and people always looked at them curiously, like they were this band of freaks or something, but Quinn didn’t mind as long as she got to see Rachel.

\--

“Do you want to come over?” her friend Santana asked her one day after pre-school. Santana was standing next to Brittany, both of them standing with their hands on their hips.

“I can’t!” Quinn exclaimed. “I’m going to visit Rachel!”

Santana shook her head. “Why do you have to visit your sister at the police station? Is she in trouble? What did she do?”

Santana sounded more envious and curious than anything else, because even at the age of four, almost five, Santana Lopez was a bad ass who admired and envied bad assery in others.

Quinn was troubled. “I don’t know.”

She asked her mother why they could only visit Rachel at the police station, but her mother hemmed and hawed and never gave her a straight answer.

So she asked Aubrey who told her, “because Rachel’s grandparents are assholes, so don’t bring it up again, especially to Mom or Rachel, squirt.”

Quinn spent part of her fifth birthday at the police station, slicing a small cake with Aubrey, her mother and Rachel.

“I wish you could come to my birthday party on Saturday,” Quinn said wistfully.

“Me too,” Rachel said softly.

“How come you can’t?”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. But my grandma and grandpa said no.”

Quinn pouted. “Maybe you can beg them and pretend to cry. Mommy and Daddy always say yes when _I_ beg and pretend to cry.”

“No,” Rachel said quietly. “I don’t want to get them mad. Nobody likes a crybaby anyway.”

“Your grandma and grandpa are scary,” Quinn admitted.

“Yeah.” Rachel swung her legs, which hung in the air because they weren’t long enough to reach the ground.

Quinn’s legs weren’t long enough to touch the ground, either, and when Rachel began swinging her legs, Quinn did, too. Quinn swung her leg at Rachel and Rachel giggled and swung back. They began playfully wrestling their legs together until Aubrey glanced over, whacked both their legs and told them to quit it before one of them started to cry. They looked at her with identical resentment and rubbed the spot on their legs where Aubrey hit each of them.

“Aubrey, don’t hit your sisters,” Judy chided.

“Sorry, Mom,” Aubrey said. She glared at Quinn and Rachel who looked back at her. Each of them stuck her tongue out at Aubrey and Aubrey chuckled, shook her head and looked away.

Rachel reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled something out. She reached for Quinn’s hand and slipped the object inside.

“Happy birthday,” she said shyly.

Quinn looked at the gold bracelet with the gold star charms in her hand. Every time she visited Rachel, she’d always seen Rachel wear it. “But this is yours.”

“I know, but it’s my favorite. My daddies gave it to me when I turned four,” Rachel explained. “And I want you to have it.”

“Rachel,” Quinn’s mother intervened. “Honey, no. You keep that. Quinn, give your sister her bracelet back. That’s hers.”

Rachel shook her head. “I want Quinn to have it,” she said adamantly.

“Rachel, that’s your bracelet. Your daddies gave it to you for _your_ birthday, I’m sure they’d want you to keep it.”

Rachel pouted. “ _I_ want Quinn to have it. It’s _her_ birthday present now!”

Quinn’s mother sighed. “Honey, won’t you miss it?”

Rachel looked thoughtful. She looked at Quinn and poked Quinn in the shoulder. “Do you miss me when I’m not around?”

“Duh.”

“Then when you miss me, you can look at the bracelet and you don’t have to miss me anymore! And then when I look at my wrist and see that my bracelet isn’t there, I’ll think of you and I’ll know that _you_ have it and I don’t have to miss you anymore, either.” Rachel beamed at Judy. “I want her to have it. I won’t miss it.”

Quinn’s mother sighed. “Quinn, thank your sister.”

Quinn beamed at Rachel. “Thanks, Rachel!”

Rachel smiled back. “You’re welcome!”

“Put it on me,” Quinn said holding her wrist out and giving the bracelet to Rachel.

Rachel tried a few times, but fumbled with the clasp. Rachel looked at Aubrey timidly and tapped her thigh. “Aubrey, can you help Quinn put the bracelet on?”

Aubrey ruffled Rachel’s hair. “Sure, shrimp.”

Rachel passed Aubrey the bracelet and Aubrey put it on Quinn. Once the bracelet was on, Quinn held up her wrist to admire it. “I like it,” she declared.

Rachel beamed at her. “Gold stars are my favorite.”

“ _You’re_ my favorite,” Quinn said.

Rachel grinned. “You’re my favorite, too.”

\--

After a year of fighting, Russell Fabray gave in and said that in the highly unlikely event that Rachel’s grandparents gave up custody, Rachel could live with them. Quinn’s room was immediately restructured to accommodate another twin bed and Quinn waited for her _friend_ , because while everyone else, even her father, referred to Rachel as her sister, it didn’t quite feel right to Quinn and she only called Rachel her sister if she absolutely had to. She loved Rachel and she didn’t feel any jealousy or anything-- it was just that it didn’t feel right to call Rachel her sister.

“When is Rachel coming home?” Quinn asked impatiently.

“We’re going to bring your sister home,” Judy told Quinn firmly. “Just be patient, honey.”

“When is Rachel coming home?” Quinn demanded.

“Give it a rest already!” Aubrey exclaimed. “Mom’s trying to bring her home! Be patient!”

“When is Rachel coming home?”

Her father sighed. “Quinn. Stop asking. Your mother is trying to bring her here.”

But they didn’t understand. Rachel was supposed to share _her_ room. Seeing Rachel’s empty, unoccupied bed every night was a _constant_ reminder Rachel wasn’t where she was supposed to be. The rest of her family may have been able to forget Rachel for a night or two, but it was impossible for Quinn to do the same.

“When is Rachel coming home?” Quinn demanded one night at dinner.  
  
Her parents and her sister each released simultaneous groans of frustration, but Quinn didn’t care.

“When’s Rachel coming home?” she repeated, shaking one indignant finger in the air. The gold star charm bracelet jangled on her wrist and she felt the need to ask it again. “When is Rachel coming home?!”

“Quinn,” her father warned.

“When’s Rachel coming home?!”  
\--

Rachel had just turned seven when Rachel’s grandparents canceled a visit at the very last minute. It was particularly upsetting because it was supposed to be Rachel’s birthday visit and so they had presents and a small cake to cut. Judy, Quinn and Aubrey were already in the parking lot of the Marion police station when Rachel’s grandmother called to cancel.

Quinn saw her mother’s jaw clench and Quinn assumed they were just going to drive home, but instead Judy drove all the way to Mansfield, cursing under her breath.

Quinn was watching the scenery pass by the window when she caught sight of Rachel, or at least, she thought it was Rachel. It was hard to tell when the car was going so fast, but she just sort of knew it was Rachel.

“Mom! There’s Rachel!”

Quinn’s mother glanced over, saw the dark-haired child, braked and pulled to the side of the road. Judy got out and Quinn tried to scramble out of the car, but found that the child lock was on, and she couldn’t get the door open. Quinn banged insistently on the glass.

“Stop it,” Aubrey said, as she got out of the car. “Mom is going to be pissed at you.”

But Quinn didn’t care because it was Rachel. Her mother opened the door for Quinn and the blonde gave her mother a dirty look.

“I don’t _like_ the child locks!” she exclaimed, stomping her foot. Then she pushed past her mother and practically threw herself on Rachel, grabbing her into a tight hug. She ignored the shriek of pain from Rachel and rocked Rachel to and fro.

“Quinn, you’re hurting your sister,” Judy snapped sharply. “Let her go _right_ now!”

Quinn jerked away, eyes wide.

Judy crouched in front of Rachel, who was crying, tears of pain leaking out. “Where does it hurt, honey?” she asked softly.

Rachel shook her head.

“Tell me where it hurts, honey,” Judy said. She frowned when she saw the odd set of Rachel’s arm and hesitantly reached for Rachel, but pulled back when Rachel withdrew.

“Does your arm hurt, Rachel?”

Rachel‘s eyes were wide and she just stared.

“Silly,” Quinn said. “Just say yes if it does, and no if it doesn’t.”

Aubrey, who was fifteen, gave Quinn a sharp pinch on the arm to quiet her. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Quinn rubbed her arm and glared at Aubrey who didn’t know Rachel like she did. She wasn’t trying to be a jerk, it’s just that a person had to talk to Rachel a certain way sometimes.

Rachel looked at Quinn. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Get in the car, Rachel,” Judy said quietly.

Judy drove, Aubrey sat in the front and Quinn and Rachel sat in the back. Quinn held onto the hand of Rachel’s good arm. She leaned over and kissed Rachel’s cheek. “Does it hurt less now?”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Yes.”  
\--

The arm was broken and there were bruises on Rachel’s stomach and back, the pattern from the slotted spoon easily discernable. Quinn’s mother released a low moan when Rachel was disrobed to put on the hospital gown-- the shirt had to be cut off and Quinn’s mother’s mouth was in a thin tight line as an Emergency Room doctor spoke to her.

Judy Fabray rarely ever pushed for _anything_ , but when she did, she always got her way. And this time, she pushed.

Rachel went home with them that evening and it was years before Rachel saw her grandparents again.

\--

Quinn’s mother walked into the house with Aubrey, Quinn and Rachel trailing behind her.

“Our daughter is home,” she announced to Russell.

Russell looked at Judy, looked at Rachel and then looked back again at Judy.

“All right,” he said.

Quinn beamed at Rachel. “Let’s go up to our room!”

Rachel smiled back. “Okay.”

“Come down in fifteen minutes, girls,” Quinn’s mother said. “We’re going to have Rachel’s party.”

As they left, Quinn heard her father question her mother.

“What happened to the arm?”

“Spiral fracture,” Quinn’s mother answered softly. “The radiologist said it looked like someone tried to twist her arm off. She’s going to be in a cast for _months_.”

\--

Quinn’s bed had a Disney’s Cinderella theme, whereas Rachel’s bed had a Tinkerbell theme. Quinn sat down next to Rachel on Rachel’s bed, and took a lot of care not to bounce on the bed, even though she was excited. Her mother cautioned her to be careful of Rachel’s arm because it was broken and Aubrey yelled at her when she tried to hug Rachel once they got up the stairs.

“Quinn! Be _careful_! Her arm is _broken_ , get off her! You’re going to make it worse!” Aubrey yelled out her open bedroom door when she just happened to look out her door and see.

Quinn was trying to be gentle, but when her sister scolded her, she blushed furiously and pulled away.

“Sorry,” Quinn said, contrite.

Rachel took Quinn’s hand. “It’s okay.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

Rachel’s lower lip was wobbly. “No, it’s okay. Honest.”

Quinn held up her wrist to show off the bracelet that Rachel had given her. “Now that you’re here, I don’t have to miss you anymore,” she declared. “Do you want this back?”

Rachel shook her head. “It’s a present,” she said with a smile. “It’s yours. I wanted you to have it and now I don’t have to miss you anymore, either.”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah.”

 

\--  
Quinn went from the youngest child in her family to the middle child, but she didn’t really mind.

The first few days after Rachel moved in, Rachel borrowed some of Quinn’s clothes, which were slightly too big because even then, Rachel was short for her age and Quinn was tall.

Her parents went to pick up Rachel’s things from her grandparents house, and Aubrey watched over them as they watched a movie in the living room.

“Do you think they’ll remember to bring Barry?” Rachel asked anxiously.

The only thing Rachel asked Quinn’s parents to bring back was Barry, her teddy bear. Rachel was very specific in her description of him--he was coffee-with-milk brown, medium-sized and wore a distinguished trench coat.

“I know they will,” Aubrey said. “Don’t worry.”

“And I have bears,” Quinn said. “So you can share mine.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “But it’s not the same.”

Quinn’s parents came home a few hours later with Rachel’s belongings. Quinn’s mother held out the brown teddy bear dressed in a trench coat. “Here’s Barry,” she said, bending down and handing it to Rachel.

Rachel beamed and threw one arm around Quinn’s mother. “Thank you!”

Quinn looked at the teddy bear. “He’s cute,” she commented.

Rachel grinned at her. “We can share.”

\--

Rachel rarely asked for her grandparents-- she didn’t talk about them even when Quinn asked questions.

“Do you miss them?” Quinn asked.

Rachel paused. “A little bit.”

And that was that.

She never talked about her fathers. The first few times Quinn asked about them, Rachel didn’t respond, so Quinn thought maybe Rachel just didn’t hear her. It took her a few more times to realize that Rachel was ignoring her and Quinn just learned not to touch the subject again.  
\--

Quinn had Rachel mostly to herself for the first few weeks after Rachel moved in because it was winter break from school. Quinn told Rachel all about Gasdsen Street Elementary School and she couldn’t wait to show Rachel off and show her around.

Quinn introduced Rachel to Santana and Brittany during the tail end of the vacation when Quinn’s mother finally stopped worrying about Rachel somehow injuring her arm even further by being outside. After the first few days in which Rachel bit her lower lip through most of the day, Rachel spent several days pleading for Judy to cut the cast off before trying to do it herself with a pair of safety scissors. (Over the years Rachel would exhibit an especially high pain tolerance and an almost suicidal physical bravery.)

“What happened to your arm?” Santana asked bluntly.

“I broke it,” Rachel explained simply. She looked over at Quinn who nodded.

“Yeah, she broke it.”

Quinn’s mother had asked Rachel a few times about how it happened and why Rachel was wandering around by herself when they found her, but Rachel didn’t seem to want to talk about it. If Rachel didn’t want to talk about it with her mother, Quinn doubted Rachel would want to talk about it with anyone else.

“I think she meant how,” Brittany said.

“Mind your own beeswax,” Quinn snapped. She smiled at Rachel. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, following after Quinn as they left Santana and Brittany behind.

\--

The first few months after Rachel moved in were like an endless sleepover. They got reprimanded a few times because they stayed up talking well past their bedtime. Quinn’s father was sterner than Quinn’s mother about that sort of thing, but even he seemed to soften when Rachel looked like she was trying not to cry after being scolded.

“Just go to sleep, both of you,” he said gruffly.

“You can’t cry _every_ time, or it doesn’t work,” Quinn explained once her father left after yelling at them to go to sleep already.

“Sorry,” Rachel whispered, wiping at her eyes and sniffling.

And then Quinn realized that Rachel was real-crying not fake-crying.

“Aw,” Quinn said, climbing out of her bed and walking across the darkened room. There was a night light on Quinn’s side of the room because she was still a little afraid of the dark. She climbed into Rachel’s bed like she did when Rachel woke up crying and calling out for her fathers. “Why are you crying? Are you scared?”

Rachel’s voice was eerily flat. “I’m not scared of anything anymore.”

“Then why are you crying? Are you hurt anywhere? Is it your arm?”

Rachel sniffled. “I’m not hurt. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“This will make you feel better,” Quinn declared before she kissed Rachel’s nose and then put her arms around her. She was glad Rachel’s cast had finally come off the week before because now they could do more things together. “I always feel better when Mommy does that to me.”

Rachel sniffled again and cuddled close to Quinn. “Yeah.”

\--

Quinn woke up later that night still in Rachel’s bed. Rachel had curled away from her and she was now crying and calling out for her fathers. Quinn shook her awake and Rachel woke up with a choked cry.

Quinn lay there next to Rachel for a few minutes while Rachel covered her mouth with her hands to quiet her crying. Quinn rubbed Rachel’s back comfortingly.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Rachel whispered, just like always, once she caught her breath.

“I won’t,” Quinn swore.

“You _can’t_. Not ever.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even if you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You can be mad at someone and still love them. So promise me you’ll never tell.”

“I won’t. Not even if I’m mad at you.”

“You can’t tell anyone. Your Mom and Dad will think I’m a baby and no one likes a baby.”

Quinn frowned. “Everyone likes babies. Even Santana likes babies.”

“No one likes a _crybaby_.”

“You aren’t a crybaby.”

Rachel sniffled. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t tell.”

“I promise, I won’t tell.”

\--

And so they went on that way-- sharing secrets, friends and a family.

\--

When Quinn reflected on it as an adult, she remembered Rachel veered between two personalities. She was cheerful and bright, walking around the house and belting out Broadway songs or songs she’d heard on the radio. But she was also often somber and serious-- moody and difficult to be around, at least for Quinn, because Quinn was the _only_ person who saw that part of Rachel. There were times when it truly hurt her feelings that Rachel always smiled at _everyone_ even mean people like Dave Karofsky, but was sullen and quiet when all Quinn was trying to do was see if Rachel wanted to play a game or something. Quinn spent a significant part of their early childhood trying to cajole Rachel into a better mood.

Even back then, Rachel was a good actress because when other people were around, Rachel was always cheerful and sweetly bright-- always able to talk a million miles an hour and just seemed so _eager_. She was able to fool _everyone_ into believing she was happy and well-adjusted. Everyone assumed Rachel had adapted without any problems and Judy Fabray often marveled with friends and other family members over the resilience of children.

“You would never know anything happened by looking at her,” Judy would say proudly. “She’s such a good girl, she doesn’t give us any problems.”

But even as a child, Quinn knew the face Rachel presented to everyone else wasn’t the real one. They spent so much time alone together that Quinn just wasn’t fooled by the image Rachel deliberately tried to project to the world even when she was very young.

Quinn wasn’t fooled even when Rachel tried to fool her, too.

\--

Quinn remembered the games they used to play when they were little-- not board, computer or video games (though they did play some board and computer games, neither were ever a fan of video games and Rachel detested the murder mystery board game, Clue) but games they made up. Rachel liked to act out scenes from movies doing very good imitations of Audrey Hepburn, Patty Lupone, Barbra Streisand and various other actresses. She also liked to practice acceptance speeches for multiple distinguished awards. But Quinn liked to make up her own games and nearly all of them involved her being the hero saving Rachel from some imagined distress. It always ended with the same reward-- a kiss on Quinn’s nose from Rachel, which Rachel always gave willingly and Quinn always took eagerly.

In school, Quinn terrorized anyone who _dared_ to pick on Rachel, but people soon realized that even though Rachel kind of was a crybaby, she wasn’t afraid of much, if anything at all. She was the kind of kid who might cry if someone made fun of her nose, but somehow managed to keep smiling if someone kicked her in the shins. And anyway, Rachel was the kid who accepted any dare--from climbing up the jungle gym and leaping off the top to knocking on the door of the principal’s office and running away, so she earned respect even from the people who didn’t like her, like Dave Karofsky. But Dave Karofsky didn’t like anyone and no one liked him either.

Rachel wouldn’t stand up for herself, but she wasn’t above getting into a fight if she was pushed hard enough into it-- and Rachel was pretty scary when she got mad enough to actually fight, especially if she was crying while she did it. There’d been a fight in third grade in which it took three teachers to peel Rachel off Dave Karofsky--Rachel was sobbing as she swung her fists and legs, but she was still trying to wiggle away from the teachers to finish Karofsky off, despite the fact that he was so much bigger and heavier.

By the time they graduated from fifth grade, Quinn had told off more people than she could count, caused the entire school to freeze Jacob Ben Israel and Mona Kincaid out of the social circle and had been in five fights over Rachel. Rachel had only been in _three_ fights, each of them occurring after she went after someone who’d hurt Quinn while the blonde defended her. The students from Gasdsen Street Elementary School matriculated into Robert Louis Stevenson Middle School with the knowledge that Quinn Fabray may have _looked_ like a sweet little doll, but she should not be crossed and that Rachel Berry-Fabray may _usually_ be the sweetest kid in school, but she could only be pushed so far before she snapped and came after you, and God help you if she was crying as she did.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 4470  
Chapter 2

 

By the time Rachel and Quinn went to middle school, they’d evolved from being called ‘shrimp’ and ‘squirt’ (respectively) to being addressed as ‘Tweedle Dumb” and “Tweedle Dumber” (again, respectively) by Aubrey Fabray.

Aubrey loved her kid sisters, she really did. She was eight years older than Quinn and nine years older than Rachel and so it was difficult to justify not liking them. But sometimes they annoyed the shit out of her and she just really wanted to kick both of them. Quinn was always the ringleader, of course, but Rachel always went along and sometimes it seemed like her two kid sisters were sharing a brain because good Lord, the way the two of them could annoy her without even trying. Aubrey thought the two of them must have ESP with the way they could communicate non-verbally about annoying the shit out of her.

“Hey Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber,” Aubrey snapped at them at the dinner table as they giggled over some inside joke at Aubrey’s expense. “Give it a rest.”

“Aubrey, leave your sisters alone,” Judy chided.

Aubrey sighed and shook her head. She was still a week away from being able to go back to college. She was nineteen to Quinn’s eleven and Rachel’s “almost eleven.”

“You guys better be careful when you start middle school,” Aubrey said. “You guys will be sixth graders, and the sixth graders are called the scrubs. The eighth graders are going to put your heads in toilets and flush them,” she teased. She bit back a laugh when she saw the way Rachel and Quinn looked at one another uncertainly.

“Aubrey! Don’t tease your sisters!”

Aubrey bit her lip and forced down a laugh. “I’m not teasing them, Mom,” she said gravely. “I remember these two annoying sixth graders got flushed when I was in sixth grade. Come to think of it, those annoying girls really reminded me of Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, because one was blonde and had a smart mouth and the other one was a brunette who was little but talked a lot about nothing.”

“Aubrey,” Russell Fabray said in exasperation. “Stop it.”

Aubrey’s grin faded and she ducked her head. “Sorry.”

She didn’t want to push him over the edge. It’d taken her nineteen years to really figure her father out and not provoke him into anger. He wasn’t violent or anything, but he had a short fuse and he could say things that were emotionally decimating. He was a this-is-my-house-and-I’m-the-man-of it sort of father. They all loved him-- he was a good provider and not the kind of dad to smack anyone around, but they were all afraid of him nonetheless. It was sort of funny because she was nineteen and she was still learning how not to provoke him, Quinn was eleven and still did and her mother was married to him and could still incur his rages. The only person who seemed completely adept at tiptoeing around his anger was Rachel and Rachel was the newest one to their family. He seemed sort of indifferent to Rachel in terms of parental affection, at least as far as Aubrey could tell, but out of the three siblings he seemed to respect Rachel the most. As the youngest and smallest, Rachel was deemed “the little one,” and their father often said “the little one is going to be the one who takes care of Judy and me in our old age” and “the little one is the one we can count on.”

Even when Rachel was little, she’d demonstrated an oddly slavish devotion to regimented scheduling-- she was never the child that slept-in during the weekends. She was up at dawn every morning. She was never the child who had to be reminded to do her chores and she was almost suspiciously well-behaved. There were times when Aubrey got older when she almost resented Rachel’s presence because it was extremely difficult to be asked “why can’t you be more disciplined like your sister?” when said sister was nine years younger and still had trouble tying her own shoes the grown-up way.

Aubrey knew she shouldn’t enjoy torturing her little sisters so much, especially Rachel who was gullible and believed everything Aubrey told her. But it was fun.

Rachel leaned toward Quinn. “Do you think anyone is really going to flush our heads?” she asked, touching the back of her head uncertainly. She looked anxious.

“Not if they know what’s good for them, they won’t,” Quinn said, though she felt a little uncertain as well. But she wanted to be brave for Rachel, because it was important to her that Rachel understood Quinn intended to always protect her.

“No one is going to flush anyone,” Russell said. “This isn’t appropriate dinner conversation and it ends now, do you girls understand me? Aubrey, stop trying to scare your sisters, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Aubrey, Quinn and Rachel said together, ducking their heads in unison.

\--  
A week later, Aubrey put her arms out, gesturing for a hug.

“Come here, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber,” she said with a grin.

Rachel and Quinn looked at one another and each rolled her eyes before they stepped forward and allowed themselves to get scooped into a hug by Aubrey.

“I was just kidding about the toilets,” she said. “But if anyone bugs you guys, you tell them your big sister fights kids.”

Rachel laughed, but Quinn was a little affronted because she’d never needed her older sister to fight her battles-- she’d always been tough enough to fight her own, and Rachel’s, too, when necessary.

\--

“So, how are you guys sisters?” Brittany asked one day for the umpteenth time, frustrated.

Quinn was tired of explaining it, but Rachel never seemed to lose patience with Brittany. But then again, Rachel never lost patience with anyone, even little trolls like Jacob Ben Israel, the creepy stalker. She explained to Brittany about Rachel since they were four and now they were going to be in middle school and she was a little tired of it. It was like Brittany forgot or something.

Brittany seemed to understand the situation until the adoption was finalized, and Rachel’s name was changed to Rachel Berry-Fabray, even though teachers had long-referred to Quinn and Rachel as the ‘Fabray girls.’

“We’re not real sisters. I’m adopted.”

“But don’t you have to have the same dad or the same mom to be sisters?”

“Not if you’re adopted, Brittany. The whole point of adoption is that people who don’t have the same mom and dad can be legally related, since obviously, adoption wouldn’t change biology.”

Brittany knew what happened to Rachel’s fathers, and she knew she wasn’t smart, but she was smart enough to know the subject of Rachel’s fathers made Rachel sad, so Brittany never asked about them. But she didn’t know what happened to Rachel’s real mother, and that was really the thing that befuddled Brittany because she understood dead, but she didn’t quite grasp unknown surrogate/egg donor.

“Well, what about your mom? What happened to your real mom?”

Rachel shrugged. “I never met her, Brittany. She was a surrogate.”

“So how do you know Quinn’s mom isn’t actually your mom?” Brittany pressed. “If you never knew your mom, how do you know Quinn’s mom isn’t your real mom? It makes sense, doesn’t it? Because why would she want you to call her ‘Mom’ if you weren’t actually her baby to begin with? How do you know Quinn’s mom didn’t donate the egg?”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak and then stopped and looked at Quinn who was looking back at Rachel.

Quinn panicked for a moment. Rather than making her happy that Rachel could actually be her real sister, the thought just made her queasy and not because she loved Rachel any less. It just kind of unsettled her. For a brief panicked moment, she wondered if there was a possibility that Rachel actually was her real sister because it was honestly totally unlike her mother to embrace someone else’s kid as her own. But then she remembered that Rachel was only eight months younger than she was and Rachel hadn’t been premature or anything, and there was no way her father would have allowed her mother to donate an egg or carry a baby for Rachel’s father anyway. So Quinn ruled out any possibility that Rachel was actually her sister.   
\--

Even though Quinn was reasonably certain no one was going to mess with her, there was something comforting about going into middle school already knowing that her best friend was going to be with her.

“Stick with me,” Quinn whispered to Rachel as they walked into Stevenson Middle School as official students. “And we’re going to be fine.”

“I know,” Rachel whispered back.

\--

The next two years were a blur. They lived together, they went to school together and they shared all the same classes. But Quinn was into the drill team and Rachel was into the dance team and choir, and so they spent a lot of time apart pursuing their respective interests.

Still, any time there was a game, Rachel always showed up and cheered hard for the drill team performance where Quinn, Santana and Brittany, always took centre stage. She didn’t have much interest in the actual game, but she stayed through the whole thing because the drill team performed intermittently through it. Likewise Quinn, Santana and Brittany always showed up in full force for each of Rachel’s voice recitals, whooping their support. Santana and Quinn always sat next to each other during Brittany and Rachel’s dance performances-- Santana’s look of shining pride as she gazed at Brittany was mirrored on Quinn’s face as the blonde looked at Rachel.

Rachel was such a part of her life, it was like Rachel was an extension of herself.   
\--

Middle school was a time that Quinn looked back on as simultaneously the best and worst of her childhood.

She was a little older, so her parents gave her a few more privileges like being left alone for a few hours without a babysitter and getting dropped off at the mall rather than being accompanied by her mother like she was a puppy prone to running off.

She spent many sixth and seventh grade afternoons walking through the mall with Rachel, Santana and Brittany, eating junk food, watching movies at the Cineplex and trying to convince the lady at Claire’s Boutique that they were eighteen so they could get their ears pierced without parental permission. All their parents eventually gave permission by the middle of seventh grade.

Quinn, Rachel, Santana and Brittany were a clique of their own and they spent every Nutrition and Lunch break together, sitting cross-legged in a circle by the tree next to Building F. But even back then, they’d splintered into pairs-- Quinn and Rachel, Santana and Brittany.

They wiled away countless afternoons in one another’s bedrooms. Quinn and Rachel were still sharing a bedroom well into seventh grade, even though Russell and Judy offered to put Rachel in Aubrey’s old room and Aubrey said it was okay with her since she had no intention of being one of those people who moved back home after college.

“We don’t mind sharing,” Quinn and Rachel said in unison, and really, they didn’t.

By then Russell had started referring to Quinn and Rachel as “the twins,” despite the fact that Quinn and Rachel were eight months apart in age, four inches apart in height and Quinn was a blonde and Rachel was a brunette.

“But you girls are getting older and each of you is going to want privacy,” Judy protested.

“Let the twins share a room,” Russell said gruffly. “Not every child grows up having his or her own room anyway.”  
\--

Quinn was lying on her stomach on the floor of Brittany’s room one summer afternoon between seventh and eighth grade. It was a fairly typical summer day-- hot with a cloudless blue sky. Brittany’s mother had given up on trying to get them to go outside and be active somehow, and so Santana and Brittany were lying on Brittany’s bed watching Finding Nemo (because Brittany wanted to, and it was Brittany’s house and so Quinn couldn’t protest or make fun of Brittany the way she wanted to. And anyway, Santana would have punched her if Quinn tried and Quinn didn’t want a repeat of the week before when Brittany wanted to watch some cartoon movie about a duck. Quinn still had a bruise on her arm from where Santana punched her and she still remembered the way Rachel looked at her with disappointment and sadness and softly asked her not to be mean to Brittany.) Quinn and Rachel laid on their stomachs on the floor of Brittany’s room. Quinn was reading a magazine and Rachel was reading a biography about Barbra Streisand. They were also secretly watching the movie.

Rachel sighed as she read. “James Brolin was so handsome when he was young.”

“Who the hell is that?” Santana demanded.

Quinn was about to ask the same thing. She put her chin on Rachel’s shoulder and peeked at the page Rachel was reading to see a picture of a dark-haired man.

“He was Barbra Streisand’s second husband,” Rachel explained.

Santana made a face. “Wouldn’t that make him really old?”

Rachel tucked her chin in the trench of her palm and turned her head to glare at Santana. “That’s why I said when he was young!”

“Isn’t he old enough to be your grandfather or something?”

Rachel scowled. “I don’t know!”

Santana laughed. “Rachel likes boys old enough to be her grandpa!” she mocked.

Brittany chuckled. “And boys are gross even when they’re cute. So forget about old.”

“Exactly,” Santana said. “They’re really only good for very few things.”

Brittany smirked. “Right. And even that, you don’t have to do with a boy.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What sorts of things?” she demanded. She knew, of course, (kind of anyway) but she liked to tease her friends.

Brittany and Santana looked at one another uncertainly as they tried to formulate an answer, but they were saved by Rachel who was still stuck on the old topic of conversation because she’d been too indignant to catch that the conversation was beginning to steer into a new direction.

“Well, boys are gross, but James Brolin is a man and men aren’t as gross as boys and they’re better looking.”

That made Brittany, Santana and Quinn pause and then crack up in unison.

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life!” Santana exclaimed, laughing so hard that she was in danger of falling off the bed.

(By the time they were twenty, Quinn, Santana and Brittany would look back on this conversation and marvel that Rachel had been absolutely right.)

Rachel blushed a deep dark red. “Stop laughing at me!” she said peevishly.

Quinn patted Rachel’s back. “Don’t be mad, we were just kidding.”

“Yeah, Rach. Sorry,” Brittany said.

“I’m not sorry,” Santana announced, just because she could. “And I wasn’t kidding, that really was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Quinn glared at her and Santana glared back. They glared at one another until Brittany elbowed Santana in the side.

“You’re getting that little line right here,” Brittany told her, touching Santana’s forehead, right between the eyes.

Santana softened and looked away from Quinn, turning her attention back to Brittany. “Well, I’m not sorry,” Santana said petulantly.

“I didn’t say you had to be,” Brittany said with a lazy grin. “I’m just pointing out you were getting that little line.”

Santana laughed and whacked at Brittany’s shoulder and then Brittany laughed and pulled Santana in for a hug.

“I love you most out of everyone,” Quinn heard Brittany whisper.

“I love you most out of everyone, too,” Santana whispered back.

The way Santana looked and Brittany and the way Brittany looked back at Santana made Quinn’s stomach feel a little rumble-y. Then Rachel turned to look at her and passed her a hastily scrawled note.

We’re still better than them.

Quinn grinned at her.

Yeah, she wrote back.

Rachel beamed at her and Quinn felt her stomach flip. It felt good and bad at the same time.

\--

That was the summer things started to change for Quinn.

Rachel was short, skinny and woefully underdeveloped for most of their childhood, but Rachel was finally starting to fill out like the rest of them. Not a lot or anything, but people finally stopped thinking she was in elementary school.

“It’s because she’s a little younger than the rest of you,” Judy told Quinn sharply one day after the tenth consecutive reference Quinn made to Rachel being flat-chested. “Be nice to your sister!”

Quinn loved Rachel to death, but they both had their moments when they were mean to one another. It was okay though because they always made up afterward. Quinn had to admit that even though she loved Rachel, when they fought, she tended to be the one who’d picked the fight. And often times, if one were mean to the other one, it was she who was mean to Rachel rather than the other way around. It was rare, of course-- when Quinn reflected back on that time, she distinctly remembered that most of her childhood and her entire pre-adolescence was devoted to pleasing Rachel and making her happy. The desire to do anything she could to make Rachel love her was almost painful. Nearly every one of her actions practically screamed ‘please love me!’ But that didn’t mean they didn’t have a few moments now and then when they seemed like actual sisters, screaming at one another over something petty to the point of tears.

When Quinn looked back on it as an adult, she knew she never considered Rachel a sister because she was too obsessed with the idea of making Rachel love her and she spent much of their childhood worried she’d do something to lose that love. Until, of course, she actively tried.

Sisters weren’t preoccupied by each other the way she was with Rachel, she certainly didn’t think about Aubrey that way.

She still remembered the beginning of the end. The end of their closeness was slow to build, but once it gained momentum it seemed to happen so quickly, like it was happening all at once.

One day, Santana, Brittany and Quinn were waiting at the pool waiting for Aubrey to bring Rachel because Rachel had an eye appointment earlier and couldn’t come with them when Santana’s mom dropped them off. Quinn knew Rachel would get there when she could, so she wasn’t looking for Rachel and had been completely caught off guard when Santana slapped her in the arm.

“Damn,” Santana whistled. “Who knew your sister was getting a body?”

Quinn looked over in the direction Santana was staring and half-expected to see Aubrey, despite the fact that Aubrey already had a ‘body’ as Santana would call it. But she saw Rachel walking toward them, looking a little shy and sheepish, but decked out in her first two-piece bathing suit ever. Rachel had always been self-conscious that she wasn’t as developed as Quinn or their friends, but she was finally starting to fill out a bit which in Rachel’s mind spelled out: time to buy a bikini.

“Rachel!” Brittany exclaimed, running over to the brunette and pouncing on her. “You look great!” Brittany linked arms with Rachel and walked her over.

“You don’t have boobs yet,” Santana said, because really, Rachel didn’t, “but at least you don’t look like a kid anymore,” she said approvingly.

Rachel smiled at them. “Thanks.” She looked at Quinn and grinned. “It’s the bikini Aubrey bought for me last week,” she explained. She looked down at herself self-consciously. “Aubrey said I have boobs.”

“Your sister lied to you,” Santana said bluntly. “But don’t worry, you won’t be a carpenter’s dream forever. You look great in that.”

Rachel looked at Quinn with trepidation. “What do you think, Quinn?” she asked shyly, because Rachel valued Quinn’s opinion, especially of her, above all others’.

Quinn swallowed hard. She thought Rachel looked amazing and not with the grudging respect and admiration when she saw Aubrey in a bikini-- Quinn felt something else entirely. Rachel was twelve to her thirteen, and their height difference had expanded to five inches. Quinn knew she was more filled out than Rachel was, but when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t like what she saw the way she liked what she saw in Rachel.

“You look good,” Quinn said quietly. “Seriously.”

Rachel lit up and she grabbed Quinn into a hug. “Thanks! You always look amazing.”

Quinn kept Rachel company by the side of the pool that day. They ignored Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman who kept trying to talk to them and they watched Santana and Brittany play in the pool. Quinn would have liked to swim herself, but Rachel wasn’t a strong swimmer, and she preferred to stay out of the water when there were a lot of people in the pool. And anyway, Rachel hated the water and was irrationally afraid of drowning. Quinn didn’t mind the number of people, and she really wanted to swim, but Quinn just preferred Rachel over swimming.

When people started to leave the pool, Rachel felt a little more comfortable about getting into the water, and Quinn hung out with Rachel in the shallow end even as Santana mocked them from the deep end.

“Shut up, Santana,” Quinn said. “Or else I’ll tell everyone you peed in the pool.”

Santana huffed in outrage at the outrageous lie but stopped mocking them.

Aubrey came to pick them up a few hours later.

“Tweedle Dumb. Tweedle Dumber,” she greeted with a grin. She put her arm around Rachel and pulled her close. “My baby sister in her first bikini. Jesus, I’m old.” She smiled at Santana and Brittany. “Hey kidlets,” she said cheerfully.

“Hey, Aubrey,” Santana and Brittany greeted back.

Quinn sat in the front with Aubrey while Santana, Brittany and Rachel piled into the backseat of Aubrey’s beat up green Honda Civic. Quinn shot glances at Rachel through the side mirror. She blushed when Rachel caught her staring once. Rachel playfully stuck her tongue out at Quinn and grinned. Quinn grinned back.

They stopped at a drive-thru and picked up some burgers, fries and cola and then went back to the Fabray house where they sat at the dining room table, still clad in bikinis and dug into their food. Once everyone was clean and showered, Quinn and Rachel sprawled on Quinn’s bed while Santana and Brittany sat on Rachel’s bed and they all watched a movie.

Quinn surreptitiously glanced at Santana and Brittany. Quinn knew that for Santana, Brittany was special just like for Brittany, Santana was special, too. She saw the way Santana looked at Brittany and the way Brittany looked back at Santana, and it was completely unlike the way either of those girls looked at anyone else.

She swallowed hard when she realized that she looked at Rachel the same way, which would have been okay with her, except that Brittany and Santana weren’t sisters the way she and Rachel were, so she wasn’t supposed to look at Rachel the way Brittany and Santana looked at one another.

The movie went on and she felt Rachel’s hair brush against her arm. She looked down and found Rachel’s head pressed against her arm and realized Rachel had fallen asleep. She smiled down at her and brushed some hair out of Rachel’s face.

“Did she fall asleep?” Santana called out in a loud whisper.

“Yeah.”

“It’s too bad she doesn’t have to wear a bra yet, or else we could freeze it.” Santana grinned wickedly. “We could freeze her underwear though.”

Quinn glared at her. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, Santana,” Rachel said sleepily, rousing at all the noise. She was a light sleeper. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Shut up, Rachel. You snore.”

Rachel giggled softly. “So do you,” she murmured before she fell back asleep.

“Your sister’s lucky she’s cute,” Santana said shaking her head. “Or else I’d kick her ass.”

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, but then I’d kick yours.”

“Yeah, but then Brit would kick yours,” Santana countered.

“And then Rachel would kick mine,” Brittany chuckled. “So then Santana would kick hers again, and we’d be right back where we started. So how about no one kick anyone’s ass?”

Quinn ran her fingers through Rachel’s hair and smiled affectionately. “Yeah, okay,” she told Brittany.

\--

It was mortifying, but after seeing Rachel in a bikini, she spent the rest of the summer staring at Rachel when she dressed, undressed or changed in their shared bedroom. She used to just glance over and seeing any body parts was just incidental to sharing a bedroom. But after seeing Rachel that way, she just wanted to get another glimpse. She started creating excuses to go into the bathroom when Rachel was already occupying it.

They’d spent the past few years sharing a bathroom and a bedroom, and so neither of them had any sense of privacy, boundaries or personal space when it came to one another, and Rachel never seemed to sense that anything was amiss when Quinn would burst into their bathroom while Rachel was in the shower with the urge to pee that just couldn’t wait. But it was extremely deliberate on Quinn’s part and she’d stare at Rachel through the sliding glass door. It wasn’t clear glass or anything, but she got to see the outline of Rachel’s body and she was ashamed of the excitement and desire she felt for her sister. They may not have been blood-related, but they’d grown up together and they were close as any two sisters would be-- after all, there was a reason their father referred to them as the twins.

Every day the framed picture of her, Rachel and Aubrey at the court house on the day Rachel’s adoption was finalized haunted her. Aubrey had put the picture into a frame with the word ‘sisters’ on it, and had given it to them before she went off to college. It was a constant reminder that Rachel wasn’t just her best friend, Rachel was her sister.

‘She’s my sister,’ Quinn repeated to herself firmly. ‘She’s my sister. I can’t want to see her naked. She’s my sister. I can’t be this way. I can’t be a pervert.’ But she still used any reason she could to see Rachel naked or to touch her and she felt awful Rachel seemed so guileless and trusting.


	3. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 5651

Chapter 3  


The night before eighth grade started, Quinn woke up in the middle of the night to Rachel’s soft whimpers and quiet crying.

She crawled out of bed and made her way easily to Rachel’s bed-- she didn’t even need to see, she just kind of knew the path by heart. She didn’t need to worry about bumping into furniture or stubbing her toe on anything. She climbed into Rachel’s bed.

“Rachel,” she said quietly, shaking her. “Rachel, wake up.”

Rachel continued to whimper and cry out softly and Quinn continued to shake her until Rachel sucked in a deep breath and awoke with a gagged cry. She curled onto her side and cried quietly. It was quiet for a few minutes while Rachel pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her cries. It took a few more minutes after for Rachel to take a few calming breaths.

“You okay?” Quinn asked when she felt some of the tension leave Rachel’s body.

Rachel’s voice was rough. “Sorry,” she croaked out.

“It’s okay.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“I will,” Quinn said. “After you do.”

“I’m okay.”

“I know,” Quinn said.

She didn’t think Rachel was okay, no matter how much Rachel claimed she was, but Quinn always pretended to believe her. She kissed Rachel on the nose and hugged her, just like she had since they were seven. They did this at least a couple nights a week, frequently more when it was December and came close the anniversary of Rachel’s fathers’ deaths. Rachel didn’t even like celebrating her birthday because her birthday and the death anniversary were so close together.

“This is our secret, right?” Rachel asked quietly. “You won’t ever tell?”

“It’s our secret,” Quinn affirmed solemnly. “I just…why does it have to be?”

She never understood why Rachel seemed so insistent on keeping it a secret-- but it seemed so important to Rachel, and so Quinn just promised without thinking.

“It just does. No one likes a crybaby,” Rachel said softly.

How often had Rachel said that to her over the years? Quinn lost count.

Quinn held her tightly. “You aren’t a crybaby.”

Quinn lost count of the number of times she’d needed to reassure Rachel of that.

Rachel sniffled. “I feel better, you can go back to your bed.”

“I’m where I want to be.”

And it was the truth, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

“I’m where I want to be, too,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn buried her face into Rachel’s neck and inhaled deeply, her nose tickling Rachel’s neck. Rachel’s scent was just so familiar to her, but each time she breathed Rachel in, it made her stomach twist like it was going to be the first and last time.

Rachel chuckled softly. “Silly,” she said. “That tickles.”

Quinn wanted to hold on, but Rachel was squirming. Quinn pulled her head up and brushed her lips against Rachel’s forehead. “I love you, Rach. I’ll always be here for you.”

Rachel smiled. “I know that,” she murmured. “And I’ll always be here for you, too. I’m Tweedle Dumb and you’re Tweedle Dumber, so that makes us a set.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said softly.

But she knew now that what she felt for Rachel was something she wasn’t supposed to feel for a sister, because she didn’t want to kiss Rachel on the forehead or on the nose or the cheek. She wanted to kiss Rachel on the mouth and people didn’t want to kiss their sisters on the mouth. She wanted more from Rachel than just _this_.

\--

Once the realization hit her, Quinn couldn’t forget it. The desire to have Rachel in a way that was definitely not sisterly was overwhelming and consuming, and it warred with a competing desire that was equally overwhelming and consuming for that desire to be taken away and for an ability to forget that she’d ever had it at all. Of course, no matter how much she prayed for that desire to be removed from her, it only got harder for Quinn as grade eight wore on.

Rachel only got prettier as the school year passed, and it was difficult for Quinn to ignore that fact. She became acutely, painfully aware of how often Rachel changed clothing. She’d always taken notice of Rachel, but then Rachel just became this _obsession_.

She lay brooding in bed one night, unable to sleep. She listened to the sound of Rachel sleeping and started to resent Rachel for being able to sleep when she couldn’t. She was laying there for a while when Rachel began to whimper and cry softly. Quinn instinctively started to get out of bed to wake Rachel up and hold her the way she’d done for years, but then stopped herself.

She lay there and just listened as Rachel cried softly and called out to her fathers, called out for help. She sounded young and afraid. Quinn laid there and listened--she let the dream ride itself out and then Rachel woke up on her own. Quinn knew when that happened-- she just knew. There was something in the way Rachel breathed that Quinn could just tell. Quinn listened to Rachel crying softly, and she could picture it: Rachel curled up with her hands covering her mouth as tightly as she could to muffle the sound. Quinn just listened and as much as she wanted to comfort Rachel, she also thought one thing:

‘Good.’

If she was going to suffer, then Rachel was going to suffer.

Quinn thought it was about time that Rachel felt what she felt, because for years, it’d always been in the reverse-- when Rachel was happy, Quinn was happy. When Rachel was excited about a recital or performance, Quinn was just as excited. When Rachel was sad, Quinn was sad-- and Rachel was so often sad, even when she tried to hide it.

The older Rachel got, the more adept she became at hiding it from the rest of the world, but she couldn’t hide it from Quinn, even though she tried because there was no one else on earth Rachel spent more time with. Quinn had spent years and expended so much energy on trying to make Rachel happy, it seemed only fair now that she was miserable, she could spend just as much energy on making Rachel feel what she felt-- and Quinn felt like shit.

\--

And so it started out with Quinn doing her best to ignore Rachel’s soft cries on the nights she had her nightmares. There were a few nights when Rachel woke up sobbing particularly wrenchingly, but Quinn stayed in bed and after a few minutes of muffled crying in which Quinn knew Rachel was pressing her hands over her mouth, Rachel lay there sniffling for a while until she quietly called out Quinn’s name. Quinn refused to respond and so Rachel lay there for a few minutes before she got out of her bed and crawled into Quinn’s. Quinn always feigned being asleep and when Rachel wrapped her arms around her, Quinn always squirmed away, like she was still asleep and just hot from the body heat. It only took a few times before Rachel stopped trying to come into the bed and Quinn listened to Rachel crying softly, alone.

It went against every instinct Quinn had to just let Rachel cry and she cried silently herself for what she was doing to Rachel and to herself. She wasn’t deluded enough to believe she’d ever taken Rachel’s pain away, but in the past, at least she felt like she was comforting Rachel, even if it was just a little bit. She felt like a terrible person. But she still let Rachel cry alone.

It only took a few weeks for Quinn to freeze Rachel out.

“Quinn?” Rachel called out hesitantly as they did their homework.

Quinn ignored her.

“Quinn, just….just tell me what I did to upset you and I won’t do it again.” Rachel sounded close to tears.

But Quinn still ignored her, like she didn’t exist.

She started by ignoring Rachel at home which led to ignoring Rachel at school.

She ignored the way Rachel looked at her pleadingly, ignored Rachel begging to talk to her.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to just ignore her because as badly as Rachel clearly felt, it wasn’t anything close to how badly Quinn was feeling.

“Quinn, watch where you’re going! Don’t you see your sister right there?” their father demanded when he caught Quinn body-checking Rachel into a wall with her shoulder because she was pretending Rachel wasn’t even there. She’d smashed into Rachel so violently, Rachel’s entire body slammed into the wall.

She was doing that a lot-- always when she thought no adults were looking. She’d pretend Rachel wasn’t there, and so she’d deliberately walk right into Rachel like she was empty space. Consequently she’d bumped Rachel with her shoulder, elbowed Rachel in the ribs, stepped on Rachel’s feet even when Rachel was barefoot and she was wearing shoes, and shoved Rachel out of the way at their shared sink. There was a time when she opened the shower stall while Rachel was in it, grabbed Rachel by the hair and threw her out and stepped into the stall like nothing happened. Quinn felt a small thrill of satisfaction every time she saw the fleeting wounded expression on Rachel’s face, because finally, _finally_ , Rachel felt a _tiny_ bit of the pain Quinn felt every day and Rachel’s face was so incredibly expressive so Quinn knew every time she hurt Rachel. Rachel would only allow herself to show that emotion for a moment, but Quinn always saw it.

“She isn’t my sister,” Quinn snapped. “And you know it, Daddy. She doesn’t even call you Dad or Daddy, so how could she be my sister?”

“Just be careful,” he snapped.

It was a sore subject because Rachel came to refer to Judy as “Mom” fairly quickly since she had no frame of reference for a maternal figure, but since Rachel had two fathers, Rachel rarely addressed Russell as “Dad” and referred to him as “my father” to other people only when she absolutely had to.

Rachel followed Quinn into their shared bedroom, and timidly asked if they could talk, but Quinn ignored her. Rachel asked a few more times, but Quinn just pretended as though Rachel weren’t there and Rachel eventually gave up and left the room. Rachel came back a few hours later, just to go to sleep. Rachel quietly told Quinn ‘good night,’ but the blonde still ignored her.

Quinn didn’t have any concerns Rachel would rat her out, because Rachel never ratted her out before. Rachel was perfectly willing to tattle on a person if she didn’t like them, but as a general rule, she just didn’t. In fact, when they were younger, Rachel had often claimed responsibility for something Quinn did to protect Quinn from getting in trouble- even though Rachel had once quietly confessed to her that part of the reason she was such a goody-goody was that she was worried she’d be sent away if she were bad, and she really didn’t have anywhere else to go.

As a general rule, Rachel kept complaints to herself, especially if they were complaints about being in pain, whether it was physical or emotional. There’d been a time in elementary school when Rachel had a hard landing off the jungle gym-- she climbed up to the top and leaped off to prove to Mary Soto that she wasn’t a scaredy baby and ended up fracturing two toes and _never_ mentioned being in pain for two weeks until Judy caught sight of Rachel’s bare feet as she limped into the kitchen. When Judy demanded to know why Rachel never said anything, all Rachel could say was that she didn’t want to bother anyone.

Rachel just _never_ complained and so Quinn didn’t have any fear Rachel would tell on her-- but their parents figured it out pretty quickly because they could observe for themselves that not only was Quinn was deliberately ignoring Rachel but she was actively tormenting her as well. She got scolded a few times and was told to “be nice to your sister,” but other than that, there was no parental intervention.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Santana asked for the countless time. “She’s your _sister_ , you used to worship the ground she walked on, what did she do, kiss some guy you liked?”

“She’s _not_ my sister. She just lives in _my_ house.”

“But what did she do?” Brittany pressed. “We all used to be friends and now we never hang out together. I miss that.”

“You guys were my friends first,” Quinn snapped.

“”So why don’t you tell us what she did and we’ll decide if we should be on your side or not,” Santana said.

“She’s just _Rachel_ ,” Quinn snapped. “She’s short, she’s got a big nose, she’s annoying, she talks too much, she’s needy, she’s a crybaby and she’s always just _there_. What else do you want me to say?”

“Well, you never seemed to mind her much before.”

“Well, maybe I just finally opened my eyes,” Quinn snapped.

“She’s your sister,” Brittany said quietly.

“She’s _not_ my sister.”

“Jesus, you’re a bitch,” Santana said.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“What, are you a Jesus freak now, too?” Santana demanded.

“Shut up,” Quinn snapped because she was praying every night for God to take these feelings for Rachel away from her and turn it into something sororal so that she and Rachel could go back to the way things were.

‘Please God,’ Quinn thought, even as she shared a death glare with Santana. ‘Please God, she’s my sister. Let me see her like a sister.’

By the end of eighth grade, Rachel had moved into Aubrey’s old room, Judy had threatened family therapy (which Russell nixed), there’d been an unspoken custody arrangement over Santana and Brittany, Quinn had shoved, elbowed, and tripped Rachel at least once every day and she hadn’t uttered a word to Rachel except out of basic necessity in four months. There’d been multiple occasions during gym when Quinn hurled a handball or basketball directly in Rachel’s face just because she could. She threw with such ferocity, it split both Rachel’s lips, and Rachel would always explain them away to her parents by chuckling about her lack of athletic grace. Rachel covered up Quinn’s bad behavior and so Quinn’s behavior toward Rachel only grew worse.

And still Rachel begged her to talk and offered apology after apology over whatever it was she did wrong, but Quinn continued to ignore her. Rachel was still sweet to her-- saying good morning and good night every day and just doing anything and everything she could to please Quinn. But Quinn refused to give in-- her attraction and desire for Rachel was making her miserable so it only made sense to her to make the object of that unwanted attraction and desire, miserable, too.

Their connection had been instant, but it took years to build their bond. It only took a few months to shatter it.

By the summer between middle school and high school, Rachel couldn’t look Quinn in the face, even when she still said a soft “good morning” or “good night” to the blonde. Every time Quinn was in proximity, Rachel tended to wince or cringe. Rachel would be brushing her teeth at the sink and Quinn could walk in and Rachel would physically recoil. As soon as Quinn entered a room, Rachel tried to exit and each time Rachel did, Quinn glared at Rachel’s back, smiling with bitter triumph.

‘Good’

Rachel still sought her out at least a couple times a week, asking to talk and apologizing for whatever it was she did wrong, but Quinn either ignored her or said something actively hostile and hurtful. She could remember a few occasions when she _literally_ kicked Rachel out of the room by grabbing Rachel by the back of the neck of her shirt and kicking Rachel in the back as hard as she could.

And still Rachel tried to talk to her.

And no matter how badly or poorly she treated Rachel, Rachel just didn’t seem to _break_ and Quinn honestly resented Rachel a little for it. No one would ever know something was wrong just by looking at Rachel whereas Quinn was certain people could look at her and just know something was wrong with her. Rachel never stopped being _nice_ to her, even if the way Rachel looked at her went from loving and adoring to confused and fearful.

She woke up in the middle of one August night that summer between eighth and ninth grade. She’d gone to sleep angry because Santana and Brittany had chosen to go to the pool with Rachel that day instead of to the mall with her and some of the other girls from drill team. But she’d been _particularly_ angry with herself for the way she’d stared at Rachel’s bikini clad body when Rachel came home and for the swell of unmistakable desire she had to edge closer and just _touch_ her.

‘SHE’S YOUR SISTER,’ her mind screamed furiously at her. ‘She’s your sister, you fucking degenerate pervert. You’re going to hell if you keep feeling like this.’

But she just wanted her, she wanted her so badly.

She went to the bathroom to pee and she’d just washed her hands when she heard soft cries coming from Rachel’s adjoining room. Their bathroom connected the two rooms together and so Quinn pressed her ear against the door and heard Rachel’s quiet whimpers and choked pleas.

She knew what Rachel was dreaming about, of course-- she always had, even when Rachel refused to talk about it. When they were kids, it hurt her feelings there was a part of her life Rachel refused to share. By the time they got into the sixth grade, Quinn had figured out for herself Rachel was covered in her fathers’ blood the day they met because she’d witnessed it, and she’d figured out that as the witness to it, her fathers’ murderers had assaulted Rachel as well. So Quinn didn’t blame Rachel for not wanting to share.

But listening to Rachel cry in her sleep like that had always been difficult and so Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s door knob, just out of instinct, and turned it a little. And just as her brain told her not to go inside, that it was Rachel’s fucking problem and not hers, so she wasn’t going to go in anyway, her body realized the door was locked.

Rachel had locked the door against her.

She felt hate and resentment rise up and she sneered.

“Fuck you,” she whispered quietly.

She went back to bed.  
\--

She was still furious when she woke up the next morning and she stayed angry at Rachel the entire day even though Rachel went out of her way to stay out of Quinn’s line of sight. She was looking for a reason to blow up and she found it when Rachel took the last of the orange juice. She knew it was Rachel because they were the only ones home at the time.

“God!” Quinn exploded, barging into Rachel’s room. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked softly. She looked bewildered.

Quinn hated herself for the way she felt her stomach twist with want and need when she saw Rachel dressed only in a tanktop and short shorts which she’d had since the fifth grade, but had yet to outgrow. Rachel hadn’t realized she was pretty yet and that people stared at her when she dressed like that. She was so completely guileless about that sort of thing and Quinn hated herself because she wasn’t. She just felt so dirty compared to Rachel and she felt so unclean for thinking about her sister that way.

“I just wanted some fucking orange juice in my own house only to realize _you_ drank the last of it!”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized. “Look, I’ll go get some for you and--”

“That’s not the point, you selfish bitch! The point is that you’re _here_ in _my_ house! Your dads died to get away from you and even your grandparents didn’t want you! And so you had to invade _my_ life because no one else wanted you!”

Rachel’s lower lip quivered. “I can get you more orange juice,” she said softly, still trying to placate the blonde, but her tone silently pleaded with Quinn to stop. “It won’t take me that long. I can get on my bike and--”

“Shut the fuck up! I told you, that’s not the point! The point is you ruin everything! You’re _nothing_ but somehow you manage to ruin everything!!” Quinn shouted, stomping closer to Rachel. “You’re nothing! No one wants you!”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“You’re nothing!” Quinn snapped. She grabbed Rachel by her shoulders and felt Rachel try to pull away but she held on, her fingers digging into Rachel’s skin. “Nothing! You just came into my life and you _ruined_ it. I wish you’d died with your fathers! Then we would have never met. You’re a piece of crap. You’re just a fucking curse. Your dads were happy for _years_ before you came along. My mom told me! They were together for like, nine years. Then you come along and within four years, they _died_. You fucking curse! They should have sold you back-- they’d still be alive if they had! If I were one of your parents, I wouldn’t have even wanted money for you, I would have just given you away and if no one wanted you, which probably no one would have, I would have just put you in the dumpster because that’s where you belong! You’re a fucking curse and it’s your fault your dads are dead! And you ruined my life! You ruin everything you touch! You shouldn’t even be alive-- it should be you dead, not your dads because you’re _nothing_.”

It was so unexpectedly cruel that even Quinn was taken aback by what came out of her own mouth. She felt sick with herself that she could say something like that. She felt sick she could even _think_ stuff like that. She couldn’t believe how it just came out, how the words just tumbled out. But she didn’t mean any of it. The best moments of her life involved Rachel. It was just…she hated herself for looking at Rachel as anything other than a sister and she just needed to blame Rachel for it because it was easier to believe that Rachel had somehow provoked that desire in her rather than accept that desire had come from within her. In a way, Rachel actually had ruined her life because if Rachel weren’t her adopted sister, she wouldn’t feel like such a freak for wanting Rachel so much. She’d still feel like a freak for wanting a _girl_ when nearly every other girl she knew seemed to want boys, except for Santana and Brittany, but they were just exceptional-- those girls had been all over each other since daycare, but she wouldn’t feel like degenerate freak.

It was quiet for a long moment as Rachel just stared at Quinn, stunned. She let out a weak breath, more of a wheeze

“I’m sorry,” Rachel finally said, her voice wavering.

Quinn swallowed hard and suppressed the urge to cry and plead for forgiveness. She didn’t want to hear Rachel basically apologizing for being alive. But instead she steeled herself and squared her shoulders. “You’re so pathetic,” she sneered. “You’re pathetic and you’re nothing.”

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly.

Quinn sneered at her. “It’s true, you know. You’re _nothing_ and no one wants you.”

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

Rachel didn’t say anything, didn’t move. She was extremely still.

“Say it.” Quinn pressed. She pressed harder on Rachel’s shoulders, felt her nails sink deeper into flesh.

Rachel said nothing.

“Say it!” Quinn demanded.

“Let go of me,” Rachel pleaded softly

“Say it!”

Rachel tried to squirm away but Quinn pressed down even harder.

“Say it,” Quinn ordered. She pushed her fingers even deeper into Rachel’s skin and ignored the way Rachel winced. “Say it and I’ll let go. If you don’t…” she trailed off, deliberately making the threat vague and therefore that much more frightening.

Rachel’s voice was wobbly. “I’m nothing.”

“And?” Quinn challenged.

“No one wants me,” Rachel whispered.

“And you’re pathetic. Say it. Say it, you piece of crap. It’s true, so say it.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I’m pathetic.”

Quinn sneered at her. “See? Even you agree. At least you know yourself, RuPaul. Do the world a favor and just get sterilized because we don’t need you in the world’s gene pool. _Please_ get sterilized. I’m begging you. In fact, since you’re such a pathetic waste of space and carbon, why don’t you just kill yourself? I’d be better off without you, _my_ family would be better off without you and the _world_ would be better off without you. Just fucking kill yourself already, no one would care anyway.”

She let go of Rachel and stalked out of Rachel’s room. She flew into hers, locked the door and threw herself into her bed and pressed her face deep into her pillow. She sobbed as she thought about what she just did and said.

‘ _You’re_ pathetic,’ her mind cried out to her. ‘ _You’re_ nothing. _You_ should just kill yourself. You deserve to die for what you are.’

She knew there were people who wanted her, but she didn’t want any of them. She wanted Rachel. But Rachel was the one person she wanted she could _never_ have. She didn’t think she could live like this.

‘You fucking pervert,’ Quinn cursed at herself. ‘She’s your sister.’ She thought about what she said to Rachel, what she made Rachel say about herself and she was sickened.

‘She isn’t sick like you, you fucking pervert,’ Quinn thought.

She hated Rachel for being able to look at her as a sister when she’d never been able to view Rachel that way.

When she looked at Rachel, she seethed with resentment and hate because every time she looked at Rachel she thought about how cruel life and God were for letting her live with the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, but making that person her sister.

When she finally stopped crying, she got out of bed and walked to her jewelry box and pulled out the small gold bracelet that Rachel had given her for her fifth birthday. She still remembered what Rachel told her-- _“when you miss me, you can look at the bracelet and you don’t have to miss me anymore! And then when I look at my wrist and see that my bracelet isn’t there, I’ll think of you and I’ll know that you have it and I don’t have to miss you anymore, either.”_ She looked at that bracelet every day, because God, she just missed Rachel so much and she was in the next room. She wrapped her hand around it, enclosing it in a tight fist like she was trying to hold onto better days.

\--

She was holding a Slushie on the first day of high school when she happened to see Rachel talking with some boy. Rachel was laughing and smiling at him and Quinn felt _hatred_ and _envy_ for the way liking boys seemed so easy for Rachel. Quinn walked up to them.

“Rachel.”

Rachel looked at Quinn hopefully and smiled.

Quinn sneered and reared her hand back and threw the Slushie on Rachel.

The boy with whom Rachel was talking scampered off.

And of course Quinn’s reputation was sealed. No one messed with her, no one questioned her status in school and she was feared and envied even though she was a freshman from that day forward because if Quinn could do that to her _sister_ , what would she do to anyone else?

Rachel’s reputation was sealed that day, too, of course-- as a silently pliant target for ridicule and bullying.

Rachel’s eyes pooled with tears. “Why did you do that?”

But Quinn didn’t answer. She just walked away.

Quinn saw Rachel later in the day and she’d cleaned herself up the best she could, but her clothes were still coated in red Slushie. Quinn knew how much Rachel must hate it because Rachel _hated_ cherry flavored anything (except for actual cherries, oddly enough). Quinn thought she would get in trouble for Slushieing Rachel, but she didn’t. The other students seemed highly amused by it and so Quinn did it again toward the end of the day.

Aubrey picked them up because she was visiting after moving to Boston after graduating from college-- she’d wanted to be around for her sisters’ first day of high school.

Aubrey looked at Rachel in her cherry Slushie stained clothing and had an unpleasant flashback to the first day she met her youngest sister as she remembered blood-stained clothing.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Aubrey demanded.”Is that cherry shit on you? What is that?”

Quinn thought she was in for it. Rachel was sure to tell Aubrey what happened and Aubrey was sure to give her hell for it. Rachel never ratted her out before, but she’d never thrown a drink in Rachel’s face before either, and Aubrey didn’t really count as an adult, even though she technically was, because Aubrey was just their big sister. But instead Rachel hunkered down in the back seat.

Quinn watched Rachel carefully through the passenger side mirror. Rachel was slouched in the back seat, eyes downcast.

“I’m a messy eater,” Rachel muttered.

“No, you aren’t,” Aubrey snapped, because Rachel wasn’t-- she’d been fastidious about personal grooming, cleanliness and tidiness for as long as Aubrey had known her. “And that’s cherry isn’t it? You _hate_ cherry.”

“I like it okay,” Rachel said quietly.

“Since when?”

Rachel didn’t answer.

“What happened?” Aubrey asked, turning around to speak to her sister.

Rachel didn’t answer. Her eyes were downcast.

“Rachel, fucking _look_ at me and answer me when I’m talking to you! What happened to you?”

But Rachel still wouldn’t look up.

Aubrey looked at Quinn. “What the fuck happened?”

Quinn looked at Aubrey dead in the eye. “How would I know? I’m not her keeper.”

“If I find out you were behind this, I’m kicking the living shit out of you, you brat,” Aubrey threatened. “Stop being such a little shit, Quinn. You--”

“It wasn’t her,” Rachel interrupted quietly “I really was just messy. It’s not cherry, it’s strawberry soda. I spilled it on myself. Quinn didn’t do anything,”

Knowing Rachel would still protect her only emboldened Quinn.

Quinn Slushied Rachel again the next day. By the end of the week, Rachel learned to bring extra sets of clothes every day and Sue Sylvester approached Quinn to join the Cheerios because Sue Sylvester admired ruthlessness.

Quinn turned Sylvester’s eyes toward Santana and Brittany, too, and after a try-out, they were on the team, too. And with that, Quinn knew that while Santana and Brittany may silently and secretly support Rachel, there was no way they would do it in the open, because they were concerned with being popular and they worried about being Slushied themselves-- which Quinn was perfectly willing to do if they chose Rachel’s side over hers. If she could Slushie Rachel, there were few people she _wouldn’t_ Slushie, and all of those people were older and had the surname Fabray. The fact that Rachel never complained or tattled and no one else, not even close friends, stuck up for her meant Quinn had carte blanche to treat Rachel in whatever way she wanted and no one would do or say anything to stop her.

Rather than being able to hang out with both Rachel and Quinn like they used to, Brittany and Santana began hanging out with Quinn at school (ignoring Rachel) and visiting Rachel at home (ignoring Quinn). It made Quinn furious but it was a small concession she made because as long as Santana and Brittany’s publicly supported Quinn over Rachel, the blonde was okay with it even though she knew Santana and Brittany’s affection for her was waning and giving into fear and that Santana and Brittany still genuinely liked Rachel even if neither would cop to it publicly.

“We’re sorry,” Quinn heard Brittany sobbing to Rachel one day after school. “We’re so sorry. But Quinn is just…”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said quietly. “Brittany, don’t cry.”

“We’re sorry,” Santana said softly, and Quinn knew that Santana truly was, because Santana would have to be deeply sorry to actually say it.

“It’s okay.”

“Well, are you going to tell your mom?” Brittany asked.

Rachel scoffed softly. “Tell her what?”

“About what Quinn…”

“Quinn’s her real daughter,” Rachel said sounded depressed and defeated. “She’s not my _real_ mom, they just adopted me. If I tell, it’ll just cause a problem and they’ll send me away and I don’t have anywhere else to go. They don’t really want me there-- they’re legally obliged and I don’t want to give them a reason to send me away.”

“But--”

“It’s okay, Brit. It’s not that bad-- it’s such ice and artificial flavoring. It’s really not that big of a deal. Quinn’s just mad at me, but she can’t stay mad forever. I can wait. I don’t know what I did, but it must have been bad if she’s this upset with me and she’ll just have to get it out of her system. It’s okay.”

Quinn smiled with Pyrrhic satisfaction and she knew she could do whatever she wanted and Rachel would never tell.


	4. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 6538

Chapter 4

  
Seeing Rachel covered in Slushies did nothing to quell the attraction she felt. If anything, the sight just stoked the fire more because seeing Rachel bite her lower lip and blink back tears just before she plastered that big smile to her face only made Quinn want to scoop Rachel into her arms and hold her close. But the thought of being that close to Rachel again was just….it was too exciting and the knowledge that it was _exciting_ made Quinn feel worse about herself and her self-opinion was the lowest it’d ever been. It was lower than she ever thought it could be.

Within the first month of the school year, other people began Slushieing Rachel, too. At first it _enraged_ Quinn, but then it sort of pleased her when she realized just how much power she wielded in the school during the _first_ month of her freshman year.

‘She’s your sister’ Quinn told herself harshly when she found herself staring at Rachel’s legs in one of the short skirts she seemed to favor. Quinn didn’t know how her parents allowed Rachel out of the house in those short skirts because they never allowed Aubrey and they certainly wouldn’t allow her-- and Rachel was considered the baby of the family.

“You fucking pervert,” she whispered to herself in the full-length mirror in her room.

That was the day she first called Rachel ‘ManHands’ at school in front of a bunch of their classmates in their shared English class. After that, the names came easily-- RuPaul, Treasure Trail, Tranny and soon everyone else was using them, too.

It hurt Rachel-- Quinn could see the hurt written plainly on Rachel’s face and she could also see the plea to make it all stop in Rachel’s eyes. But she didn’t make it stop-- she made it worse.

But she couldn’t keep Rachel down for long--no one could. From childhood, Rachel would only allow showing that her feelings were hurt for just a moment or two, and then she’d plaster that smile back on her face.

She could see she repulsed Rachel now.

They’d sit down at the dining table during a meal with their family and Quinn would say something and the blonde could see Rachel jump and wince at the sound of her voice. That was hard to cope with-- as much as she’d adored Rachel when they were kids, she knew that adoration was mutual. Rachel did a good job from hiding her feelings from the rest of the world, but Quinn had always felt special, at least when it came to Rachel, because Rachel pretended to be someone else with the rest of the world, but she pretended _less_ with Quinn.

It used to hurt her feelings that she was completely herself around Rachel and Rachel still sometimes put on an act with her, but Quinn just thought maybe that’s what Rachel needed and she tried to be okay with it.

 

Now when she was around, it was clear Rachel was doing her best not to falter. To know that she was now just like anyone else in Rachel’s eyes was painful

\--

Rachel’s fourteenth birthday was a few months into their freshman year in high school. She’d become particularly withdrawn, but Quinn didn’t think it had anything to do with what was going on at school or at home-- Rachel had a tendency to withdraw every December and that year was the tenth anniversary of her fathers’ death. Rachel usually did a pretty good job of hiding it, but the tenth anniversary seemed particularly difficult and Rachel didn’t even seem to bother hiding the fact she was depressed like every other year. Quinn heard Rachel crying out nightly which hadn’t happened in a long time-- since they were kids, really. It got to the point where even their father seemed worried about Rachel’s obvious depression, and Russell never seemed particularly worried or concerned about Rachel before.

“She’s the only one I _don’t_ have to worry about,” he told Quinn once. “She’s the only one who always listens to us and has never talked back.”

Rachel became so withdrawn during the first couple weeks of December that their father pulled Rachel out of her room and dragged her down to the dining table. Rachel didn’t protest, but she shuffled lethargically to the table. It was the first time she showed up to dinner in a week after claiming she wasn’t hungry every night.

“I don’t care if you aren’t hungry,” Russell said lowly, practically shoving Rachel into the chair. “Your mother spent all day making a dinner she knew you’d like and no one is leaving this table until you eat everything on your plate.”

Rachel stared at the plate and hung her head. Quinn could see that Rachel was getting teary.

“Rachel, have you gone deaf?” their father demanded.

Rachel didn’t respond.

“Rachel,” he bit out. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Have you gone deaf?”

“No, sir,” Rachel said softly.

“Then you heard what I said about eating everything on your plate, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

Rachel swallowed hard and picked up her fork and began to eat mechanically. Russell watched for a few minutes and then everyone else began to eat as well. Rachel was still the last one to finish and everyone watched uncomfortably as Rachel cleaned her plate.

“Good,” Russell said satisfied. “Tomorrow, when you get home from school, you are not going up to your bedroom and holing up in there like a hermit the way you’ve done for the past ten days, is that clear?”

“Yes,” Rachel said softly.

“You’re going to sit at this table and eat dinner with the rest of this family. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Rachel said softly. She gave him a weak smile and stood to her feet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know I’ve been difficult these past few weeks. I’m sorry.”

He grabbed her by the wrist. “You were their daughter for four years,” he said. “You’ve lived with this family for _seven_. You’re _my_ daughter now, not theirs. Do you understand?”

Rachel’s cheek twitched. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said quietly. “Of course you’re my father.” She gave him another smile and then turned to Judy. “Thank you for dinner, Mom,” she said softly. “I’ll get the dishes.”

Rachel obeyed Russell’s commands and Rachel seemed more or less back to normal, although Quinn could see from the set of Rachel’s eyes that it was more out of sheer force of will than actual happiness.

Rachel’s fourteenth birthday celebration was quiet, just like every other birthday since the age of eleven. Judy insisted on throwing Rachel a large birthday party once she moved in, and Rachel went along with it for her eighth, ninth and tenth birthdays, but by her eleventh, she just balked. It was too close to her fathers’ death and the memory of it forever tainted her ability to celebrate her birthday.

Quinn sat at the dining table while their mother presented that cake she’d baked for Rachel and wished she could be anywhere else. It was clear from the fleeting glance Rachel gave her Rachel wished Quinn would be somewhere else, too.

The day Rachel turned fourteen, she presented forms from school for a work permit which she picked up from the main office before they went on winter break.

Their mother immediately protested. “Why do you want to work?” Judy demanded. “You have enough between school and your extracurricular activities. And we buy you everything you need!”

Rachel shrugged. “I like to keep busy, Mom. You know that. And anyway, I thought I could make my own money to pay for stuff I want but don’t really need. It’s not particularly fair to expect you and dad to provide for my basic necessities _and_ my moments of whimsy.”

Judy seemed wary and suspicious. “Rachel, are you planning something?”

Rachel smiled guilelessly. “I’m not planning anything other than a future of fiscal responsibility.”

“Judy, leave her alone,” Russell said. “Rachel, give me the form.”

Rachel passed it to him and he signed it.

“The little one is the one we’re going to count on in our old age,” Russell said to Judy. His tone was light, but he was only half-joking. “She’s the only one who never asks for money.”

Rachel gave him a small smile. “What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t take care of the parents who took care of me even though they didn’t have to?”

\--  
Predictably Rachel had it all planned out. She found a job at the local music store working 16 hours a week. She knew exactly what bus to take from school into town and back home and Rachel seemed happier to have a reason to be out of the house more. She came home late a few nights a week-- missing dinner with the family, much to Judy’s disappointment, but she still managed to keep up with her school work and her extracurricular activities.

Quinn’s interaction with Rachel went from minimal to nearly non-existent. She barely saw Rachel and they went to the same school and lived in the same house. The worst part was that she knew that it was the way Rachel wanted it.

\--

Rachel harbored a crush on Finn Hudson since they were in middle school. It was small at first--more of an admiration for his athletic ability, though he was somewhat clumsy and intrigue over their rather massive difference in height.

Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman (who had gone from being known as the Pucksaurus in primary school to Noah in middle school to Puck in high school) were always together had always sought out Quinn and Rachel’s collective attention. In early middle school, Finn tended to seek out Rachel’s attention, and Puck tended to seek out Quinn’s. Rachel and Quinn giggled through Finn and Puck’s awkward pre-adolescent advances. Later in middle school, it seemed to switch and Puck sought out Rachel’s attention and Finn sought out Quinn’s-- much to Rachel conceded jealousy. By the time high school rolled around, Finn and Puck seemed to have taken Quinn’s side against Rachel.

The first time Quinn Slushied Rachel, Finn and Puck approached her afterward to ask her why she did it-- they looked upset and vaguely disgusted with her and Quinn just could not let that stand.

“I guess Rachel just attracts the homos,” Quinn said derisively. She didn’t actually think they were gay, she just wanted to do something to take the heat off her. “Her real dads were gay and now you guys.”

Finn blinked. “We’re not gay.”

“Well, you could have fooled me-- you guys are always together like you’re into each other.”

Puck began actively Slushieing Rachel after that. Finn never did, but he began avoiding Rachel, too.

Quinn knew from spying on Rachel’s conversations with Santana and Brittany (Santana and Brittany only acknowledged Rachel when they came to visit her at home), that Rachel still harbored a crush on Finn and it’d only become more intense when they entered high school. Quinn began showering Finn with attention which seemed to confuse him a little, but by the middle of the first semester of freshman year, he hesitantly asked her out on a date and she accepted. Quinn could see Rachel was jealous and that gave her a small sense of satisfaction.

Quinn began dating Finn and he became her boyfriend soon after that.

She came home from school a little late one day and found Finn talking to Rachel in Rachel’s room with the door open. It was one of those rare days when Rachel was home before she was. With her extracurricular activities and her job, Rachel wasn’t home much and Quinn couldn’t even remember the last time she saw Rachel outside of one of their shared classes-- Rachel seemed to have made it a point to stay out of her line of vision.

They were laughing and talking animatedly and Rachel was looking at Finn with an obvious crush and Finn _clearly_ was enjoying himself and both of them were looking at one another in a way that neither of them ever looked at _her_.

“Finn,” she snapped from Rachel’s doorway.

Rachel and Finn’s head both snapped toward her, identical looks of trepidation in their eyes.

“What are you doing with RuPaul?”

“We’re just talking,” Finn said. “Your mom let me in and Rach was home, so I--”

“Well, don’t. Come on.”

“Sorry, Rach,” Finn said softly before scrambling to get to Quinn’s side.

Finn stayed over for a couple of hours. Quinn made out with him, but it was joyless. _He_ was clearly happy though, and so the skirmish with Rachel was forgotten, at least by Finn, by the time he went home.

Quinn barged into Rachel’s room while Rachel was sitting cross-legged in the chair at her desk. Rachel was reading _The Pearl_ (by Steinbeck) which was part of their class assignment. Quinn read it and could tell that it was the sort of book Rachel hated. When Rachel was bored whilst doing homework, she liked to distract herself by spinning herself around in her chair. Consequently, when Quinn barged into Rachel’s room, Rachel was spinning herself around in the chair by using one hand to hold the book up to her face and the other hand to grasp onto the edge of the desk to propel herself around.

Rachel looked up, startled, when Quinn came into the room.

Quinn stomped to Rachel, stopped the chair from spinning and grasped the chair, bringing her face close to Rachel’s. Rachel shrank away.

“Stay away from my boyfriend, Tranny,” she hissed. Then she shoved Rachel in the chest. Hard.

She hadn’t intended to make the chair topple over, but that’s exactly what happened and since Rachel was sitting cross-legged and her hands were in her lap, she had no way to brace for the fall. Quinn tried to reach out to grab the chair before it fell backward, because she didn’t mean for that to happen, but the chair did fall back, Rachel releasing a small yelp of surprise. Quinn watched as the back of the chair hit the ground and Rachel’s head slammed into the floor.

Quinn hastily exited the room without checking to see it Rachel was all right. She went through the bathroom that adjoined their rooms and practically ran into her room.

The next day at school, Quinn told everyone Rachel actually was a tranny, and that she would know because they lived together. She didn’t think anyone actually believed her, but that didn’t stop anyone from yelling it at Rachel.

\--

Rachel was four years old when she witnessed her fathers’ murders and was hit by one of the perpetrators, so Quinn should have known a few insults and a few Slushies couldn’t _break_ her-- but it still bothered her that despite everything she did to Rachel at home and at school, Rachel still put one foot in front of the other and smiled and treated people the way she always had. Quinn resented it because she was barely holding it together-- the cracks in her life were getting harder to patch up and she was sure she was just going to split open. Quinn resented Rachel’s resiliency as much as she admired it.

There was one day when Rachel was at her locker getting a few things and Quinn and a few of the other Cheerios walked en masse to Jenny Phillip’s locker which was just a few lockers down.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Tranny?” Quinn taunted.

Rachel didn’t respond, but she quickly grabbed another book out of her locker and slammed it shut. She moved to leave but Sarah Tyler grabbed Rachel by the arm, preventing her from leaving.

“Hey Quinn, you shared a room with her. Does she actually have a penis?”

Quinn smirked. “Why do you think I call her RuPaul? Oh, wait. Excuse me. _Him_ ”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I’ll see you at home, Quinn,” she said softly. She tried to squirm away from the Cheerio holding her.

“It’s not home for _you_ , Tranny,” Quinn snapped.

Sarah held Rachel in place as she tried to leave and shoved Rachel hard against the row of lockers. “Let’s see if she actually has a dick,” Sarah said, reaching under Rachel’s skirt.

Rachel cried out when she felt fingers press roughly into her.

“Hey!” Quinn snapped harshly. “Get off her. Don’t you _touch_ her!”

Sarah looked at Quinn strangely. “What the fuck do you care?”

Quinn clenched her jaw, her hands balled into fists. Seeing Sarah _touch_ Rachel made her furious enough to want to pound Sarah’s face into the ground. But instead she smiled at Sarah and sneered at Rachel.

“If you touch her, you might get what she has,” Quinn said. “And you don’t want to be anything like Man Hands, do you?”

Sarah smirked and stepped away. “No, no I don’t.”

The expression on Rachel’s face was difficult to read. It wasn’t fear, exactly. She seemed more angry than anything else, but she didn’t seem angry enough to actually do anything about it. Quinn realized she really didn’t know how to read Rachel anymore when it used to be second nature.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Quinn snapped. She just wanted Rachel to get out of there before things exploded, she just wanted Rachel away from these _awful_ girls. These girls may have been good enough to be around her, but they weren’t good enough to be around Rachel. “Get out of my face, Treasure Trail.”

Rachel looked like she was going to say something, and she looked near tears, but she instead she tried to leave as quickly as she could. The thing with Rachel was that she was extremely dangerous once she started crying because crying was so often a symptom of her anger and once Rachel was angry enough to cry, she was capable of almost anything.

“Bye Tranny!” Quinn and her teammates shouted.

“You really had to share a room with that freak?” Sarah asked.

“I did,” Quinn confirmed, knowing Rachel was still in earshot. “But at least now I won’t have to be woken up in the middle of the night by her crying like a fucking baby for her faggot dads. The little freak is a dyke too, because she’s been peeking at me getting undressed since we were kids.”

Quinn knew that _she_ was the one who’d been looking at Rachel getting undressed since they were kids. She didn’t think Rachel even noticed when she got undressed.

The other girls snickered. “What’s the matter with the crybaby? Other than being a little hermaphrodite dyke,” one of them asked Quinn.

Quinn laughed. “That’s exactly what she is and no one likes a crybaby tranny.”

Rachel was still in earshot and Quinn didn’t know _what_ possessed her, but she found herself shouting “it’s a good thing your faggot fathers died before they could have another tranny baby like you! It figures freaks like them would have a freak like you for a kid!”

The _moment_ Quinn finished speaking, she knew she’d gone too far.

Rachel’s body stilled and she stopped fleeing to turn around. Everyone went quiet. The look on Rachel’s face was of blind fury. The sob was wrenched out of Rachel’s throat and Quinn knew she was perverse for thinking so, but she found Rachel to be _beautiful_. Her reflection didn’t last long, however, because Rachel was a _blur_ that was coming toward her before tackling her to the floor. The punch to her stomach was vicious and stole her ability to breathe. She thought she was going to throw up.

It was the first time Rachel had ever hit her. Even when they were little and bickered from being in such proximity, Rachel never hit her. When they were small, perhaps eight or nine, Quinn had hit Rachel a few times, but Rachel had _never_ hit back. Quinn knew now why the few people Rachel fought with in primary school were _still_ people who avoided Rachel even now (except Dave Karofsky but that’s because he was an idiot). Rachel’s fists were small, but hard. Rachel was little, but she could do damage.

She felt a few more punches to her stomach and then one to her face. She tasted blood. Finally, her teammates pulled Rachel off her and it took at least three of them. When Quinn finally sat up, it was with difficulty and she struggled to her feet. Rachel was still fighting Quinn’s teammates. Despite the fact Rachel was definitely outnumbered, she was actually winning. Rachel broke away from them and came after Quinn and tackled Quinn to the ground again.

Rachel’s hand was on her throat, but she didn’t press down. Rachel’s hand was hot against her skin. Physically, it was the closest they’d been in so long.

“You can say whatever you want about me or do whatever you want to me,” Rachel hissed in her ear. “But if you ever say something like about my fathers, I swear to God, Quinn, I’ll make sure you regret it. I wish they’d just killed me, too.” Rachel’s breath was hot against her ear and the tears spilling out of Rachel’s eyes dripped onto Quinn’s face.

Rachel got up and this time, ran off.

“Don’t worry, Q. We’ll get your creepy tranny adopted sister some other time. She better sleep with one eye open for the rest of her life,” Sarah said.

“Yeah,” Quinn said flatly, although she wanted to murder Sarah because she hadn’t forgotten the way Sarah mandhandled Rachel.

After that day, it didn’t stop with just Sarah-- boys and girls found ways to corner Rachel when she was alone and slip their hands under her skirt to look for the penis that Quinn said Rachel possessed and because word spread around Rachel was small but fairly tough, people tended to do it in pairs or groups. Quinn burned with fury and anyone who _touched_ Rachel like that could expect to be relentlessly Slushied themselves, so the groping seemed to stop, but Quinn didn’t stop the name calling.

“Well, what the fuck did you expect?” Santana asked her angrily one day after school when Quinn had the gall to complain about people touching Rachel. “If you call your sister a tranny and RuPaul and go around school telling people she has a penis, people are going to want to _check_ , why don’t you get that? You live with her! People think you’re telling the truth!”

“That’s not my problem!” Quinn snapped.

But it was, and though she encouraged other people to call Rachel names like Tranny, RuPaul, Man Hands and to refer to Rachel with male pronouns to their hearts content, she also made it clear that actually touching Rachel was off limits. She definitely presented it in a way that implied Rachel was untouchable in the Indian-caste-system sense, but she actually meant it in the sense that she’d _kill_ anyone who did.

She thought it worked. She thought making it seem like Rachel was so low on the totem pole that touching her was social suicide was enough to protect Rachel somehow, even as she knew she was making Rachel’s life unbearable at school _and_ at home. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t enough.

It was just that her life was unbearable, too. Every waking moment was an ache, like she had no emotional skin so everything just hurt. When it came to Rachel, everything just hurt. She couldn’t brush anything off. She knew she was tormenting Rachel and that it was only inviting other people to torment her, too.

\--

One day while they were still freshman and her relationship with Finn was still relatively new, Quinn happened to walk into their shared bathroom while Rachel was just out of the shower. Rachel hadn’t wrapped a towel around herself yet and so Quinn saw Rachel fully naked-- everything. Quinn felt her mouth go dry and she felt herself get wet. She felt herself…twitch a little bit and her underwear was just suddenly extremely uncomfortable. She wanted her. She wanted her so badly. She stared at Rachel for so long, Rachel looked at her, eyes wide. Rachel seemed frozen and Quinn definitely was.  
.  
“You’re getting fat, Thunder Thighs, and you don’t even have tits,” Quinn said spitefully.

Rachel wasn’t exactly big-breasted, but she was finally exhibiting a modest swelling of breasts. Rachel was nowhere near fat-- she was skinny, actually. But Rachel’s cheeks turned pink and she seemed to realize she needed to cover herself because she grabbed a towel and didn’t bother drying off, she just wrapped it around herself and exited quickly.

Quinn used the bathroom and then fled to her room and turned off the lights, the image of Rachel burned into her mind. Her hand slipped between her thighs and she tried to think of Finn as her fingers moved in and out of herself, but it did nothing. She thought of Puck, still nothing. She thought of other cute boys, cute movie actors and _nothing_ and then she thought of who she really wanted.

She thought of Rachel and soon she came hard, with Rachel’s name dying softly on her lips.

She burned with shame. And then she did it again. And again.

And for so many nights after that, she tried to imagine Finn or someone, anyone, other than Rachel, but it never worked. It was only when she imagined Rachel that anything seemed to happen for her. And she burned with humiliation as she came.

‘God please,’ she thought as she quietly sobbed each time she climaxed. ‘She’s my sister. Let me see her as my sister. I can’t be like this. Please. I can’t want my sister.’

But she created excuses to see Rachel naked and she touched herself in the dark of night thinking of her. She thought of what it would be like to be touched like that by another person-- and she always imagined that other person as Rachel.

Quinn hated Rachel for it almost as much as she hated herself.

‘Please God, she’s my sister.’

It was because she manufactured reasons to see Rachel naked (walking into the bathroom when she knew Rachel occupied it, barging into Rachel’s room to deliver a message from their mother in the hopes she’d catch Rachel off guard while changing) that she could see that her Thunder Thighs comment clearly hit its mark because within a couple months, the subtle protruding of Rachel’s collarbone and hip bones were no longer subtle and her rib cage and vertebrae were visible.

“Your sister has an eating disorder,” Santana told her bluntly during lunch period one day. Santana looked around for Rachel, but Rachel was nowhere to be seen. “And she won’t listen to me. If you don’t talk to your parents then I will.”

“What would be the point?”

Santana looked _furious_ and she stood up at the table and gave it a kick before stalking away.

“You should tell your parents,” Brittany said quietly. “Rachel’s gotten _really_ skinny. Maybe you aren’t paying attention, but it’s bad, Quinn. She’s always going to be your sister.”

She had noticed, but Quinn couldn’t reply, because she’d meant it when she asked ‘what would be the point?’ Their parents always acted like nothing was wrong. Anything bad or unpleasant was swept under the rug. She’d been treating Rachel like shit at home for so long now, but neither of their parents said anything.

She’d contemplated telling their parents Rachel was getting too skinny, too, but she didn’t think they’d do anything. Their father would ignore it or just yell and probably try to hold Rachel down and force feed her. Their mother would just pretend like nothing was wrong, just like she always did. Judy Fabray rarely ever came through for any of her kids, and with Rachel in particular, their mother seemed too eager to want to believe she was okay.

From the time they were little, Rachel had always been self-disciplined. “I’m going to be a star one day,” Rachel whispered conspiratorially one night when they were eight. “Stars have to have discipline if they’re going to make it big.” So even when they were little, Rachel was the type of kid to always get her homework and chores done. As she grew older, this turned into being careful about her diet and sticking to an exercise regime. Their parents always seemed a little impressed by Rachel’s self-discipline, so no matter how insane it seemed, neither of them either complained because Rachel was just so _easy_ to raise-- she never gave anyone any problems. Theirs was the sort of family that ignored problems until they became too glaring to ignore and then their father yelled until said problem went away.

But it never escalated to the point Santana needed to tell Russell and Judy, because Aubrey came home for a brief visit during a three day weekend, took one look at Rachel and spent two hours talking quietly to Rachel in her bedroom and another two hours swearing at their parents.

After that, their parents seemed to watch Rachel more carefully. On the nights when Rachel had to work at the music store and didn’t eat dinner with them, she’d have to eat once she got home, grimly supervised by one or both of their parents. There were threats of therapists and hospitalizations which were never followed-through with. After a few months, their parents seemed satisfied the threat was over, but Quinn watched Rachel fairly carefully after that and it never really was.

For the rest of high school, Rachel always teetered between thin and too thin. She announced she was vegan one day and though their father seemed annoyed and upset, he didn’t comment and their mother did her best to accommodate Rachel’s new dietary restrictions. Rachel spent some of the money she made at the music store paying for a gym membership and then buying an elliptical which went into the garage which their parents seemed pleased with because they both used it, too.

“What is wrong with you?” Quinn heard Santana shout at Rachel one day when Rachel, Santana and Brittany were hanging out in Rachel’s room after school. “You’re skinny! Just come with me and Brit to get dinner! I know your parents will be fine with it!”

“I’m vegan and Dahlia’s has a limited--”

“So we’ll find you something! Just come with us!” Santana sounded angry and frustrated.

They exchanged some low, but heated words which Quinn could no longer hear. A few minutes after that Santana and Brittany left the house. The next day Santana glared at Quinn after Quinn Slushied Rachel for the second time that day. “You guys really are sisters because you’re both stubborn assholes.”

“She’s not my sister.”

“You’re a bitch,” Santana told her quietly.

She knew how harsh it sounded-- ‘she’s not my sister’.

But it was true. She just couldn’t look at Rachel as a sister and every time someone called her ‘your sister,’ it was like a knife through her stomach. Why couldn’t she see Rachel the way _everyone_ else saw her? Everyone else saw Rachel as her sister, so why couldn’t she?

Normal, healthy people didn’t want to touch their sisters the way she wanted to touch Rachel and it was difficult for her to accept that she wasn’t normal.

She looked in the mirror after she brushed her teeth and thought about what a sick pervert she was for the way she looked at Rachel.

Sometimes she tried to rationalize it by thinking that if Rachel had just come to live with them right after her parents were murdered, then maybe she could have had a chance to look at Rachel as a sister. After all, there was a big difference between being four and being seven. She’d done some research online and found out about something called Wastermarck imprinting which theorized that people who were raised in domestic proximity reversely imprinted on one another, thus making it impossible for them to be sexually attracted to one another. But this window occurred between the ages of birth to six, and they were seven when Rachel moved it (in fact, Quinn was a four months shy of eight)-- thus effectively ensuring that Wastermarck imprinting thing could never kick in.

Quinn wanted to believe that if Rachel had just been able to move in right away after her parents died, none of this would have happened. She really wanted to believe that and she resented Rachel’s grandparents who withheld her when they really never wanted her.

But the truth was, even when she was four, and visiting Rachel at the police station twice a week with their mother and their sister, she’d been desperate to protect and please Rachel and she didn’t think there was anything sisterly about that.

She remembered wanting to hold Rachel’s hand from the first day they met and she remembered being fixated on being as close to Rachel as possible. She clearly remembered being jealous of anyone who tried to get in between them, from family members to friends. She remembered hating anyone to whom Rachel showed even a smidgen of attention. Rachel had always showered her with attention, so if anyone took some of that attention away from her, Quinn resented that person.

How could Rachel be her sister when she created any excuse to see Rachel naked? How could Rachel be her sister when she stared at pictures of Rachel and memorized every detail? When she spent so many nights with her hand between her thighs, wishing it were Rachel’s hand rather than her own?

With all that, _how_ could Rachel be her sister?

‘Please God. I don’t want to be sick. Please let me see her as a sister. I don’t want to be like this Please let me just see her as my sister and then we can go back to being friends again. Please God. Please.’

There were times when she just felt so _low_ , and she tried to tell herself she wasn’t disgusting or whatever, that it really didn’t count because they weren’t blood-related. But the adoption meant they might as well be.

Sometimes she thought about telling their parents she was having feelings for another girl, without ever saying who that girl was. They would be horrified, at least, their father would be, their mother would probably be silent and just back up whatever their father said. They’d grown up listening to their father’s homophobic comments and Rachel quietly admitted one night she found their father’s comments to be offensive and hurtful. “I don’t really remember my dads,” she admitted quietly on her eleventh birthday. “But it feels personal when he says stuff like that.”

Quinn thought if she admitted to having gay thoughts then maybe they could talk about sending her off to one of those de-gaying camps-- the thought of them frightened her, but she thought it would be preferable to wanting to fuck her own sister.

If there was any chance they could make her stop having thoughts like that about Rachel, then it was worth it--she missed Rachel desperately.

But what she _truly_ wanted was Rachel as her girlfriend, not her sister. When she was little, she had fantasies of marrying Rachel and when she thought about her future wedding, it was Rachel she was standing beside at the altar. Even when she was very young, she knew this was something she could never share with anyone, not even with Rachel. She’d consequently felt very lonely and alone growing up.

She wanted Rachel, but she knew they could never be--they had the same last name, for God’s sake, and the adoption had finalized when Rachel was nine. They were as related as they could be without actually sharing any blood.

She wished to God it were enough to be Rachel’s friend and sister. But it just wasn’t. Being around Rachel and wishing Rachel were just some stranger, just some girl at her school so she could at least have a _chance_ of being with Rachel was too much.

Quinn wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being gay, but she wanted Rachel desperately and if Rachel were just some girl off the street, then at least Quinn could just be _gay_ instead of a incestuous _freak_. Her parents would freak out about her being gay but they’d probably have heart attacks and die if she ever admitted that she was in love with the girl she’d grown up with like they were sisters.

They’d _grown up_ together like sisters! How could she feel this way about Rachel? It was _sick_ and as long as she wanted to share a bed with Rachel, she just couldn’t be around her.

So she gave serious consideration to the idea of telling her parents about having gay thoughts in hopes of curing herself of her attraction and desperation for Rachel. But she was ultimately just too afraid and so she kept it to herself.

She felt a little better after she Slushied Rachel or called her names like Treasure Trail, Man Hands or RuPaul, because it felt cathartic to punish the object of her impossible attraction, but the feeling never lasted very long because of the look on Rachel’s face. It was always fleeting, because Rachel could never let herself show others how she really felt, but she wasn’t so adept at it that she could prevent some genuine emotion from sneaking out now and then. Seeing that fleeting, wounded look on Rachel’s face _every_ time Quinn insulted or Slushied her hurt _so_ bad, and yet, she couldn’t stop. It hurt both of them, but she couldn’t stop.

It went against instinct to hurt Rachel like that and she also knew the relationship she had with Rachel may be beyond repair. Rachel was extremely forgiving and sweet-natured, but everyone had their limits and Quinn knew the longer their relationship stayed so terrible and the more she hurt Rachel, the less likely it was they could ever regain _anything_ they’d lost.

It was especially hard to face this prospect knowing that she brought it down on herself.

That year, Aubrey got married to Rick, who owned a chain of UPS stores. Quinn thought he was a little uptight for Aubrey but Aubrey adored him and their parents approved of him because he was a nice Christian man. The family took a photo after the wedding-- Aubrey in the middle with one parent on either side of her. Quinn stood on the other side of their father and Rachel on the other side of their mother. As the bridesmaids, Quinn and Rachel wore the same dress. Quinn stared hard at the photograph in which even from a distance, Rachel’s collarbones were almost painfully prominent.

She knew how much she was hurting Rachel, but she just couldn’t stop.


	5. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 3251  
warning: rape (Quinn and Rachel do not perpetrate it on the other)

Chapter 5

The summer between freshman and sophomore year, there were a couple weekends when their parents went away for one reason or another. One particular weekend, their parents went on some retreat with the church and Quinn hosted a party which Rachel was clearly not invited to.

By then, Rachel was more or less ostracized by the other students at McKinley, but she’d made some friends at work she could spend time with. They were all older-- in their late teens or early 20’s and none were students at McKinley. Rachel was still only fourteen even though she carried herself as being older. But that particular weekend, Rachel’s friends were off to some 21 and over club and Rachel slipped in after work, unseen.

Quinn knew Rachel had gotten home, but was unsure of when that happened. The party was confined to the downstairs and she inspired enough fear she really didn’t worry about people stealing anything or going off to the off-limits parts of the house. The only people allowed to go upstairs were Quinn, Brittany, Santana and Finn.

The downstairs bathrooms were becoming revolting and so Quinn went upstairs to use hers. The light was on in Rachel’s room and the brunette was holed up in there, probably too afraid to come out. Quinn hadn’t seen Santana and Brittany in a while, so when she heard voices from Rachel’s bedroom, she assumed it was them. But something seemed off, so she listened carefully and she heard laughter accompanied by the sound of Rachel’s weak pleading and crying.

She opened the door to the sight of two girls and two boys holding Rachel down on her bed-- one person holding down each extremity. Rachel was naked and struggling to free herself, but her movements were lethargic and her pleads were slurred. She was definitely drugged. There was another boy on top of her while another girl was filming the whole incident on a camera phone and Quinn suppressed a scream when she realized what he was doing to Rachel.

“Go deeper,” the girl holding the camera urged. “Maybe then you’ll feel his cock.”

“You’ll get your turn,” he grunted. “Fuck he’s tight. Jimmy, you must have a dick the size of a tampon if you couldn’t loosen her up at all,” he called out to one of the other boys in the room.

She froze for a moment in horror. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. It took her a moment to process what that meant.

She just stared for a while until she found her voice.

“Get the fuck off her!” Quinn screamed.

Everyone in the room turned to her and the assailants seemed like they were going to laugh, but they saw the look on Quinn’s face and they scrambled out.

Rachel couldn’t even seem to move anymore-- she just laid there and cried softly. Quinn glanced around Rachel’s bedroom to see if there was anyone else-- there wasn’t, but it was more disheveled than Quinn had ever seen it. The light on Rachel’s nightstand had toppled and was on the ground. The picture of the family that Rachel kept on the nightstand was now on the floor, facedown, glass broken. Things were just askew.

Rachel’s clothing was in shreds on the floor. She caught sight of Rachel’s torn underwear near the bed-- it was one of her days-of-the-week underwear which Aubrey had bought for her as a joke birthday present a few months before. Those were signs of a definite struggle. There were little red cups half filled with beer on the floor where the assailants had clearly set them down. Rachel’s room smelled like beer and when Quinn looked at Rachel, she could see Rachel’s hair was wet, that Rachel smelled like beer, too.

Quinn was horrified-- God, so horrified. She was so horrified she was frozen in place and she just stared at Rachel, speechless. She didn’t know what to do.

“Get out,” Rachel said quietly, she sounded slurred and tired, like she was on the verge of passing out.

“Rachel…”

“Get out.”

“Rachel--”

“I said to get out. And lock the door behind you.”

And so she just left. She fled to her room and sat there, shell-shocked. She thought about what Santana once asked her “what the fuck did you expect?” when she complained about people taking liberties with Rachel’s body, and the guilt crushed her. She’d brought this down on Rachel and now she just wanted to die.

She made sure the other kids paid for what they did for what they did to Rachel-- at least in terms of their popularity. She made sure they were Slushied as relentlessly as Rachel was. She remembered their faces so clearly-- and the enormity of what she brought on Rachel was crushing. But she just…she couldn’t talk to Rachel. And she couldn’t tell anyone what happened.

Rachel, who always claimed to be afraid of nothing, seemed fearful anytime Quinn was present, so Rachel didn’t seem like she wanted Quinn to talk to her anymore anyway. She still greeted Quinn in the mornings with a soft “good morning,” but something had definitely changed

She just _couldn’t_ talk to Rachel-- she felt too guilty and it was just too hard looking and talking to Rachel knowing that what she actually wanted to do was hold her and beg for forgivness.

She wanted to tell their parents what happened because she knew Rachel never would.

Even when they were little, Rachel just couldn’t seem to _ask_ for help. But Quinn couldn’t tell either. Not when they were little, and not now.

Every time she tried, the words died in her throat in a lump.

There was a chance their parents wouldn’t believe her either, because Rachel _never_ changed, so it didn’t seem like anything was wrong. But that was the thing about Rachel-- she never let on that anything was wrong. It didn’t matter how often she was Slushied at school, she was still sweet and smiley to everyone on campus. When she got home, she was still the same sweet kid who offered to help their mother with dinner, volunteered to do the dishes afterward and poured their father a scotch.

Quinn thought that it was possible they wouldn’t believe her and since their parents were the kind of people who swept aside any bad or unpleasant feelings, she wasn’t sure it would do anything to tell them. At least, that’s what she told herself. But when she was truly honest with herself, she knew she was more afraid their parents _would_ believe her and they would rightfully blame her for what happened to Rachel. Since she already blamed herself, she couldn’t stand the idea of other people blaming her, too.

It was also clear Rachel never told anyone else what happened because as much as Santana and Brittany ignored Rachel at school, outside of school they were still friends-- the three of them were closer to each other than any of them were to Quinn now. But Quinn knew if Rachel had told Santana or Brittany about it, she would have caught hell from both of them-- especially Santana. If Santana knew, Santana would have kicked the living hell out of her by now.

Rachel never changed, at least, to the outside world, but Quinn couldn’t sleep at night and so she knew Rachel couldn’t either.

A couple months after the incident, Aubrey came home on a random Wednesday to stay through the week and weekend ‘just to visit,’ which was unusual for her. She was a newlywed with a new job since recently graduating college and she was not at all inclined to come home like she was some college kid.

But she did come home, and she spent most of it with Rachel. Rachel wasn’t in school on Thursday even though she got dropped off that morning by their mother with Quinn and when she did come home, she came home with Aubrey and went straight to bed and stayed in bed for the rest of the day and night, claiming she was sick.

Quinn suspected what happened, but she never asked and Rachel never said anything. The happy mask Rachel wore in public never slipped even for a moment, but Quinn knew Rachel better than _anyone_ and she could see Rachel had completely withdrawn into herself. There was something deadened in the way Rachel looked at everyone, especially Quinn.

The name-calling and Slushieing continued, but Quinn made sure no one followed the compulsion to “check” if the Tranny and RuPaul names were accurate.

In time Rachel seemed to get better-- even when they were little, Rachel was insanely committed to proving she could live through anything and still be okay (Pippi Longstocking books were a particular favorite because of this theme). But something had definitely been lost that day, something that stayed lost for a very long time.

It became even harder for Quinn to live with herself. It was already difficult to look at herself in the mirror knowing what she was doing to Rachel just to make herself feel better about the feelings she had for her adopted sister. She felt like a pervert, so she took it out on Rachel who was actually blameless. But after Rachel’s rape, Quinn genuinely contemplated not living anymore.

It was just…it was too much. She tried to tell herself Rachel was tough and could handle the Slushies and the insults, but being violated that way-- how did Rachel live with that? And knowing that the name-calling and rumors made people think they could _do_ that to Rachel…Quinn felt like _she’d_ been the one to rape Rachel.

She couldn’t get the image out of her head, and she wanted to hug Rachel and plead for forgiveness. She wanted to beg Rachel to please, _please_ just be okay. All she wanted to know was Rachel would be okay. But she just couldn’t bring herself to ask because she knew Rachel well enough to know the answer was ‘no.’

After what happened to Rachel, Quinn stopped wanting to live. She prayed not only that God would take her attraction to Rachel away from her, but that God would just strike her dead. There were times when she gave taking her own life serious contemplation, but ultimately she just couldn’t-- her religious upbringing made her too fearful about going to Hell and she’d been taught people who committed suicide went to Hell for committing the ultimate sin of despair and losing faith in God. So she just couldn’t do it herself, even if she felt like she _deserved_ to go to Hell.

Eventually Rachel seemed to be doing better, and that made Quinn feel a little better, too, but Quinn could never forget and she couldn’t look at Rachel without feeling a little sick with herself, particularly because she still burned with desire. She hated herself even more because after what she did to Rachel, she didn’t feel like she had any right to still want Rachel-- but she did.

After what she put Rachel through, she still couldn’t stop wanting Rachel and that made her feel sick with herself.

\--

By the time sophomore year started, things at school had improved infinitesimally for Rachel in that people no longer felt like it was okay to physically check to see if ‘tranny’ was a factual moniker. But things still weren’t good. They were worse at home-- things were so tense even their father picked up on it, but he didn’t say anything. He’d just looked at them. And of course, their mother didn’t say anything either.

Rachel avoided her most of the time, but Rachel didn’t ignore her. If they happened to meet up in the bathroom in the mornings, Rachel still greeted her with a quiet “good morning,” but Rachel wouldn’t look at her and she left as quickly as she could. Rachel was still sweet to her, though it was more polite than sweet. It just made Quinn feel guiltier because Rachel never fought back except that one time and she just kept pushing Rachel further and further, knowing full well that Rachel would never push back.

She didn’t like the person she’d become.

She was mean to Finn who was always sweet to her. She felt like a hypocrite because she was president of the Celibacy Club, but she took particular delight in exciting him and then disappointing him. She _wished_ she wanted him that way. Her life would be so much easier if she did. But she didn’t want him that way.

The only person she’d ever wanted was Rachel.

She was bitchy to everyone. Quinn knew people may have feared and respected her, but she was certain no one liked her.

She was drinking a lot-- every weekend, she went out with Finn or other friends and came home drunk. She was never stupid enough to drive afterward, but she found the alcohol was blunting all the sharp edges in her life.

Her life should have been perfect-- she was a sophomore and already the head Cheerio, she was the most popular girl in school, she made great grades, her parents weren’t perfect or even particularly good parents, but she knew they loved her. She had a boyfriend who was totally whipped, and did everything she said. There was nothing in her life she wanted that she couldn’t have.

Except for one girl. Just one girl in this whole big world-- and she didn’t even take up much space in it.

Rachel was just a girl, but not being able to have her basically negated everything else that was good in Quinn’s life. She could have the world, but if she didn’t have Rachel, the world was not enough.

And because the world wasn’t a specific enough target, that left Rachel to be the unfortunate subject of all her rage, pain, regret and disappointment.

She had almost everything in life-- it was teen magazine perfect, but she hated her life and she hated the fact she was alive.

\--

Things started to blur a little because everything seemed to be happening so quickly.

It really started when Mr. Ryerson, the creepy teacher in charge of glee, got fired. Mr. Schuester took over and Rachel signed up. Mr. Ryerson always put Rachel off, so Quinn knew Rachel would never join glee club as long as Mr. Ryerson was in charge of it.

Glee was social suicide, but Rachel was at the bottom of the school hierarchy, so really, what did she have to worry about? Rachel loved to sing and Quinn thought wistfully of the voice choir competitions Rachel used to compete in middle school. Rachel had always been an amazing singer. Even though Rachel was Jewish, she never complained when she was dragged to church along with Aubrey and Quinn by their parents every Sunday and even participated with the choir. The choir director had all but begged their parents to let Rachel on the choir, even though she was the only kid in the adult choir. Quinn was happy for Rachel that she finally had a place to showcase her talent again.

And then everything seemed to happen at once.

She felt fat after seeing Rachel lounging at home in a pair of shorts and a tank-top because Rachel was beautiful and a little too skinny. She felt like a disgusting pervert for the way she’d stared at Rachel’s legs, her breasts and the way the shorts hung on Rachel’s hips. She felt disgustingly fat in comparison, too. –

So one night a few days later, she got drunk and she slept with Puck after he told her she was skinny, just as skinny as Rachel.

She hoped sleeping with Puck would make things better-- she thought maybe she just didn’t feel attracted to Finn but she could be attracted to another boy. But Puck didn’t do anything for her either. And both those boys were so hot, it was painful-- they should have been able to excite her.

Sleeping with Puck just made her feel worse about herself-- she felt like she compromised her morals, she felt like a hypocrite for being the president of the Celibacy Club, she felt like a bitch for hurting Finn who trusted her, and most of all, she realized she was very very gay and she was still very much in love with her adopted sister.

Sleeping with Puck did nothing for her physically, but when she went home afterward she had her hand between her legs and thought of Rachel. She came undone so quickly, it was embarrassing. She just knew that no guy could ever make her body respond that way and it was just so crushing. She touched herself nearly nightly thinking of Rachel, and she always came, but it was joyless and she cried every time.

It was like the end of the world, but she still kept trudging on, hoping one day God would answer her prayers and she could find some decent Christian man who would love her and who she could love back and whom she desired just as much as she desired Rachel so that Rachel could finally just become her sister.

The remote possibility this could happen kept her alive, forced her to open her eyes in the moment and live her life.

And then for whatever insane reason, Finn joined the glee club and Quinn didn’t like the way he eyed Rachel or the way Rachel still eyed him back.

There were only a few people in her life she genuinely liked or loved: her family, Finn, Santana and Brittany. And _every_ one of them, except her father, seemed to prefer Rachel to her. In fact, even though Quinn was certain their father never quite bonded with Rachel, she was pretty sure their father actually preferred Rachel over her, too, even if Quinn felt like he loved her more than he loved Rachel. Russell was always going on about how responsible and trustworthy Rachel was, how Rachel was the only one of his girls (his wife included) who never asked him for money and always obeyed him without question.

Quinn couldn’t stand the idea of Finn and Rachel being alone together in glee-- she couldn’t stand the idea of the two of them falling in love with one another and leaving her behind, and so she convinced Santana and Brittany to join with her to keep an eye on the situation.

It really wasn’t that hard. Aside from the way Santana wrinkled her nose at the potential for a dip in popularity, she was amenable enough to joining glee because it meant she and Brittany could spend more time with Rachel in school.

“You’re a bitch.”

Santana never seemed tired of telling Quinn that, but she never seemed to have the balls to go against her, so Quinn learned to ignore her. After all, Santana seemed to value popularity over her relationship with Rachel, so how did that give Santana room to talk? But neither Santana nor Brittany ever Slushied Rachel.

Then Mike and Matt from the football team joined, too, and New Directions was ready to compete. During glee practices, Rachel sat as far away from Quinn as possible, but Quinn genuinely loved glee because it meant she could hear Rachel sing again without spying on Rachel to do it.

Things were almost bearable. And then she realized she was pregnant  



	6. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count:9264

Chapter 6

Calling Rachel names and making her miserable took a backseat to the more immediate issue of _being pregnant_. Her parents were going to _kill_ her. She thought about just getting rid of it. After all, she was pretty certain that Rachel had an abortion. But that was a product of rape-- Rachel had no choice in it.

Quinn flinched and shut her eyes as the image of Rachel being violated came to her mind. She’d spent so much energy dehumanizing Rachel, that she should have expected people would actually come to look at Rachel as being subhuman when they treated her that way. Rachel never had a choice, but Quinn had and she’d still chosen to sleep with Puck. It didn’t feel right to have an abortion and it honestly went against her moral views. She thought it was okay for _other_ people, but it wasn’t okay for her. She already felt bad enough about herself without adding that to the pot-- she was already a recipe for disaster.

She convinced Finn it was his-- she took advantage of his trusting naiveté and convinced him that a night in the hot tub had been enough to get her pregnant. He was a stand-up guy and he swore he’d be there for her, that he would do the right thing and Quinn believed he would.

Once Jacob Ben Israel announced to the school that she was pregnant, Puck figured out on his own the baby was his and Quinn had to deal with both Finn and Puck annoying the crap out of her. It was too much. She just needed them to leave her alone long enough so she could think, but everyone was asking her ‘what are you going to do?’ and she didn’t know.

Rachel knew she was pregnant, of course. Rachel had probably figured it out before she even did because it took a few mornings of throwing up into the toilet for Quinn to twig onto the fact she could be pregnant-- she’d been in such denial. Quinn thought maybe Rachel would get back at her by telling their parents. She half hoped Rachel would so that she wouldn’t have to, but of course, Rachel never did.

Rachel never acknowledged she knew Quinn was pregnant, but Quinn noticed Rachel was looking at her more.

The medical bills started to pile up-- Quinn intercepted the bills and presented them to Finn and Puck, both of whom looked at her cluelessly and helplessly. Finn gave her some money-- a piddly thirty dollars and Puck slipped her a couple hundred from his pool cleaning business, but it just wasn’t enough. Still, Puck seemed like a better option than Finn-- at least the one she could rely on a little better for financial security. She took him along to babysit Terri Schuester’s sister’s kids and she had a good enough time with him that she thought Puck was the better choice. She was ready to dump Finn when Santana pulled her aside and showed her the sexts she’d exchanged with Puck while Puck had been babysitting with her.

“I thought you were with Brittany,” Quinn said quietly as she read through the sexts.

Santana shrugged. “Who do you think was telling me what to say to him?”

She and Brittany exchanged grins.

“Whatever,” Quinn snapped.

She confronted Puck about it and he was completely unapologetic _and_ he tried to grope her breasts. She found Finn and apologized for being a bitch to him. He hugged her and told her it was okay. She felt terrible for lying to him and awful for using him. She should have known better than to confuse counting on someone financially and counting on someone emotionally. But then she realized Finn just loved her more than Puck did, and Finn would do _anything_ to get her money if she really needed it, whereas Puck wouldn’t. She didn’t love Finn (she didn’t love Puck either), but she resigned herself to using Finn because the need to watch out for herself and her baby outweighed the guilt for not being good to Finn.

She made her choice-- Finn over Puck, but she still didn’t know what she was going to do.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Quinn said quietly to Santana and Brittany who were surprisingly supportive of her in their own ways.

“We’ll figure something out,” Santana said confidently. She sighed. “It’d be a lot easier if you’d just have an abortion.”

“I’m not going to kill my baby!”

“Well, your parents are going to figure it out and kill you anyway, so really, you might as well”

“Thanks a lot,” Quinn said dryly.  
  
“Have you thought about asking Rach?” Brittany said. “She has a job and she’s always talking about fiduciary responsibility. If you need money, I bet she’d give it to you.”

Quinn scoffed. “Why would I want her money?” she asked scornfully. But the truth was, she could _never_ ask Rachel for money to deal with this problem. She was just too ashamed of herself and she didn’t think she deserved Rachel’s help.

Santana shook her head. “Money is money. Just ask your sister.”

“She’s not my sister.”

Santana shook her head again. “You’re right. Don’t ask her for money. You don’t deserve her to help you because you treat her like shit and she’d _still_ help you. And you fucking well know it.”

“Whatever,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes. But Santana was only saying out loud what Quinn was thinking. She didn’t deserve Rachel’s help, and the worst thing of all, Santana was right that Rachel really would still help her. Even after everything, Quinn knew Rachel well enough to know Rachel would still help her and that made her feel even worse.

The next morning, Quinn saw Finn and Rachel talking. They both looked somber. Quinn approached them, grabbed Finn by the arm and pulled him away without even acknowledging Rachel.

“Why were you talking to her?” Quinn snapped coldly.

“We were just talking,” he said lowly.

“Well, stop it.”

In Nutrition, he pulled her into an empty classroom and pushed a white envelope at her. “Here.”

Quinn opened it and gasped softly when she saw it contained seven one-hundred dollar bills.

“How did you get this?”

“I sold some stuff, did some work for my mom’s boyfriend,” he said. But it was clear he was lying because he was a terrible liar.

It didn’t matter how he got the money though, the important thing was that he got it. She sighed with relief.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, she stepped closer to him and hugged him.

He held her tightly. “It’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

But over the next couple months, she started to notice a pattern-- she’d catch Finn and Rachel talking in the morning and by Nutrition, he was giving her an envelope of money always in denominations of hundreds-- it was more than Finn could have access to, considering he didn’t have a job.

She put two and two together.

“Is this Rachel’s money?” she demanded.

“No,” he said. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

But he was lying. She knew he was.

“I don’t want her money!” she snapped shoving the money back at him. God, no. She couldn’t take Rachel’s money, not after everything she did and Rachel worked so hard for her money. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t believe she didn’t pick up on it sooner and she wished she could just give Rachel all her money back-- not because she didn’t _want_ Rachel’s money, because she really needed it, but because she didn’t deserve Rachel to still want to help her after everything.

“It’s not her money.”

“Don’t lie! I don’t want her money!”

“Well, we need it!” Finn exploded. “We need the money and she wants to help. She’s your sister! Even if you’re _terrible_ to her!”

It made her want to cry because she knew it was true.

She shoved the envelope of money at him. “Give it back to her. I don’t want it.”

He took it from her. “What do you want me to do?” he asked helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. We need the money, she wants to give it to us. Where else are we supposed to get it? We need it right away!”

“Figure it out, idiot!” she snapped as she pushed past him and left.

\--

‘Once I get this baby out of me, I’m going to kill Jacob Ben Israel. Slowly’ she thought. Once the news of her pregnancy came out, her popularity plummeted. It didn’t help that she joined glee and got kicked off the Cheerios. No one called her any names, but people no longer parted for her in the halls and she finally knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a Slushie when Dave Karosky hurled one her in face.

“Here,” Brittany said, giving Quinn a hand towel-- a real one made out of cloth, not one of those abrasive paper hand towels from the girls’ bathroom.

“Thanks, Brit,” Quinn said quietly. She wanted to cry as she wiped blue Slushie from her face.

“Rachel gave it to me to give to you. She told me not to tell you it was from her, but I just thought you should know,” Brittany said pointedly.

Quinn didn’t say anything.

But later when she sat down to dinner with Rachel and their parents, she stared at Rachel’s hands which were swollen and scraped.

“What happened to your hands?” their father demanded.

“I had an accident in the metal shop class when I was taking a summons to another student as a favor to my History teacher. It’s fine. The nurse already looked at it.”

“Well, be more careful.”

“Yes, sir.”

But Dave Karofsky never Slushied her again and neither did anyone else. And when Quinn saw him the next day, he had a split lip and a black eye. She wasn’t a genius (clearly-- she was sixteen and pregnant, after all), but she knew what happened.

\--

She kept her pregnancy a secret from her parents for as long as she could, but of course Finn announced it to them in the most idiotic way possible.

Quinn and Rachel stared at Finn in stunned disbelief as he sang “You’re Having My Baby.”

She was horrified. What would make him think that was a good idea? What sort of _idiot_ planned something like that? In that moment Quinn thought Finn Hudson was the biggest moron on earth for thinking that was okay. Didn’t he know her parents? They’d been dating long enough that he’d met her parents. Didn’t he realize what a terrible idea it was? It was one thing to think about it and a whole other to do it.

How could he go through with something so cosmically stupid? Did he actually hate her and this was his way of making sure he completely fucked up her life, because really, only someone horrifically stupid or horrifically hateful could think of an idea like that and then actually go through with it _in front of her parents_. Who thought informing the parents of a pregnant sixteen year old _via song_ was a good idea? She _hated_ him for thinking of such an asinine idea.

Her mother was horrified and her father was furious. Quinn knew her mother must have known. She caught her mother looking contemplatively at her a few times over the past few months and she felt betrayed her mother never said anything. She needed her mother, but of course, her mother so rarely came through for anyone.

“Quinnie, we raised you right,” Judy said quietly.

“You did,” Quinn said weakly. “I…I’m so sorry.”

“When you were five, I took you and your sister to an Indians game,” Russell said. “We were waiting for Rachel to come home and I took you because I wanted you to stop asking when Rachel was coming home. All the other dads brought their sons, but my two girls were enough for me. Aubrey made it through the whole game, but you fell asleep in my lap. I kept hoping nothing exciting would happen because I didn’t want the crowd to get too loud and wake you up. You stayed in my arms until the game ended.”

“Daddy, please…”

“Now you’re telling me you’re pregnant,” he said lowly. “My sixteen year old daughter is pregnant.” He looked at Rachel. “Did you know about it?”

“I didn’t tell her, Daddy,” Quinn said weakly. “I--”

This was her problem, her mistake. She didn’t want Rachel to get caught in her shitstorm.

“I didn’t ask you,” he snapped. He stared at Rachel. “Did you know about it?”

Rachel looked down at her plate. “Yes.”

Russell slammed his hands down on the table. He scowled at Quinn. “What is the matter with you?” he snapped. “What kind of example are you setting for your little sister? We raised you right. Your older sister married a nice Christian man. Your mother and I have been married for over twenty years. How can you behave like some little whore?”

“Daddy…”

“Do you see your little sister pregnant?” Russell demanded. “She makes good grades, she participates in extracurricular activities, she has a job, we never have to ask her to do anything more than once. She doesn’t give us _any_ trouble. Why can’t you be more like her?! We didn’t even raise her until she was seven. She lived with _perverts_ until she was four and do you see _her_ getting pregnant? Do you? What is the matter with you, Quinn? You’ve had _every_ gift just handed to you and this is what you do? You get pregnant at sixteen like some inner city whore? You’re an embarrassment. You’ve brought shame on this--”

“I had an abortion last year,” Rachel interrupted quietly. “I’m not any better than Quinn is. I’m… I’m not a barometer for good behavior either.”

The table went silent. Judy stared at Rachel in horror.

Russell’s face was red with fury. “You’re barely fifteen years old,” he hissed. “You’re telling me this happened last _year_?”

Rachel hung her head. “Yes.”

“Who was the father?” Russell demanded. “Who was it, you little whore?”

“I don’t remember,” Rachel said quietly.

Quinn wanted to be sick as she remembered that day. It was highly possible Rachel really didn’t remember because she’d definitely been drugged at the time.

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Russell shouted. He slammed his hands down on the table. “You little slut! What do you mean you don’t remember?” He stood up and pulled Rachel to her feet and then slammed her facedown into the table. The rest of the occupants of the table jumped, clearly startled. Everyone was too stunned to move or speak. “How many boys have you been with that you don’t remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Russell roared. “Your mother and I have struggled to raise you right, to erase those years you lived with _perverts_ , but obviously it was pointless, wasn’t it? I should have known it would be worthless to even try with you! I knew you weren’t worth it!” He threw Rachel to the ground and Rachel fell into a heap “Get up, you little whore!”

Rachel swallowed hard and stood up. She cringed when Russell stared down at her. “You’re a minor,” he said lowly. “You’re not even old enough to drive. How did you get an abortion?”

Rachel shut her eyes. “Aubrey drove me. Don’t be mad at her. I begged her. She didn’t want to.”

Russell’s eyes were so wide they were nearly bugging out. He raised his hand and everyone held their breaths as they anticipated a slap that never came. “You aren’t even worth it,” he said lowly. “Discipline is for children who are _teachable_ and it’s clear to me now that despite my best efforts, you aren’t teachable. Get out. All three of you, get out,” he hissed, looking at Rachel, Quinn and Finn in turn.

“Okay,” Rachel said softly. She began to walk away from the table.

“Rach. Wait. Don’t move.” Finn said. He seemed to have found his voice again. “You can’t do this, they didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Get out of my house.”

Finn looked pleadingly at Judy. “Mrs. Fabray, do something.”

“Don’t bother,” Quinn whispered, wiping at her eyes. “If she wanted to do something, she would have done it when she found out I was pregnant.”

Russell looked at Judy. “You knew?” he spat out. “Did you know when Rachel was pregnant, too? Is that how she got consent? She was fourteen!”

“I…no,” Judy said. “Neither of them told me anything.”

Russell looked at Quinn and Finn. “Get out. I want you out of my house.”

Quinn wiped at her eyes and stood up. She looked for Rachel but saw that Rachel was already gone.

Oh, God. Where was she?

When she and Finn left the house, she glanced around for Rachel, but she didn’t see Rachel anywhere

Finn looked around, looking like he was going to cry. “Where did she go?”

“Can we just go back to your house?” Quinn asked weakly.

He paused. He glanced around again, but finally sighed and agreed.

She followed Finn to his house and cried for twenty minutes in Carole Hudson’s arms.

She saw Rachel at school the next day. Rachel gave no evidence that anything was even wrong. She walked around like it was any other day. Quinn found out from Finn that Rachel was staying with a coworker from the music store and Santana and Brittany told her that Rachel seemed to be okay.

\--

She stayed with Finn for a couple months until the truth about the baby’s true parentage came out. Then she stayed with Puck. She knew for a fact Rachel hadn’t been allowed back into the house either.

All of it was a blur of desperation. She begged Aubrey and their grandparents in Texas for help, but nothing helped.

“I’m in the doghouse with mom and dad, too,” Aubrey said. “They’re furious with me for helping Rachel get the abortion, but what was I supposed to do? She was fourteen, she was really scared and she asked for my help. She _never_ asked for my help before, not even with homework.”

“I’m asking for your help now!”

“I know that, and I want to, but you don’t get it. Mom and Dad aren’t talking to me either. And I’m too far away to be able to help you. Just wait it out. I’ll keep working on them.”

A few weeks into living with Puck, her mother pulled her out of class.

“Your father and I would like you to come home tonight.”

Quinn was elated. She went home straight after glee. Her father was cold, but at least he greeted her.

“Is Rachel working tonight?” Quinn asked timidly.

Her mother paused. “Your father and I thought it was best if your sister stay with her grandparents for a while. It’ll give a chance for everyone to cool off.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “But Grandma and Grandpa live in Texas.”

“She’s staying with _her_ grandparents,” Judy said. “In Mansfield.”

Quinn swallowed again. “Oh.”

“They’re getting older and needed some help around the house anyway. Your sister wanted to get to know them while she still has a chance, so it worked out for everyone.”

Quinn paused before she could respond. “Right.”

\--

It was extremely quiet at home. Quinn thought she would hear her parents talking about Rachel, but there was nothing. It was like Rachel had been erased from their family. They ate dinner and acted like it was perfectly normal for the seat next to Quinn to be empty.

Santana and Brittany asked Quinn if she’d heard from Rachel, but of course, she would be the last person Rachel would ever choose to contact. Emails, texts and phone calls to Rachel from Santana and Brittany went unreturned, and as far as Quinn knew, their mother wasn’t visiting her. Aubrey didn’t know anything either

It was quiet and Quinn thought maybe Rachel had dropped off the planet or something when Quinn’s mother quietly brought her up at the dinner table one night-- two months after Rachel was sent to her grandparents.

“Rachel needs her tonsils out,” Judy said softly. “It’s pretty urgent. I spoke to her doctor and he said she should have had them out years ago. We need approval from the insurance company.”

Russell looked blank. “But she’s never had tonsillitis. She’s never even been sick.”

“The doctor said she did and she probably just never complained about it.”

That seemed true enough-- when they were little Rachel would sometimes tell her about an earache or her throat hurting, but she never wanted to tell their parents. “I don’t want to bother them,” Rachel would explain softly. Quinn always thought it was stupid to hide being sick, but since Rachel asked her to keep it a secret, she always did simply because Rachel asked.

Russell was quiet a long time before he spoke again. Quinn thought he was just going to ignore it, but then he spoke.

“Well, don’t let her have the surgery with those butchers in Mansfield. Pick her up tomorrow and take her to Dr. Harding for a second opinion.”

“All right,” Judy said.

Rachel was back home the next day and enrolled back at McKinley the day after that. She had her tonsil surgery and Rachel was back in glee once she was well enough. The others were jubilant to have her back in time for Sectionals.

\--

They won at Sectionals, but the victory didn’t bring Quinn or any of the rest of the glee club members any increase in their popularity.

At home, Russell Fabray instituted strict rules for Quinn and Rachel. Rachel was offered her old job back at the music store, but she wasn’t allowed to, since their father seemed to believe Rachel was consorting with miscreants and degenerates there. It was oppressively stifling, but it was better than being homeless, so Quinn was okay with it. But it still hurt he was so cold with her. He was cold to both of them-- he rarely talked to either of them and when he did, it was usually to tell one or both how disappointed he was to have them for daughters.

“You two have broken my heart.”

Then her mother caught her father cheating on her. Judy kicked him out and it was like meeting her mother for the first time. There’d been moments when Quinn was growing up when her mother pushed for her own way rather than bending to her father’s will. Granted those moments had been very few, but when her mother acted like she was her own person rather than someone’s wife, Quinn really admired her. She wished she could have that version of her mother _all_ the time and after her mother kicked her father out, she kind of did. Her mother without her father was still kind of a hot mess, but at least she had some kind of a backbone.

New Directions performed at Regionals and lost. Shortly after that, she gave birth to a little girl she named Beth and then she and Puck gave her away to a nice couple in their 30’s who’d tried for ten years to have a baby and couldn’t. She knew her baby would be loved and so she felt okay about leaving her behind at the hospital.

Once she recovered from the delivery, life went back to normal and she pretended like she never even had a baby. She worked hard that summer to get her body back into shape to beg Sylvester to let her rejoin the Cheerios, and it worked.

Within a month of her junior year, she was back on top again. People parted to let her through, and when she started calling Rachel names again and Slushieing her, people followed suit.

\--

Thanksgiving that year was somber. It was just her, Rachel and their mother. Their parents were still separated and Aubrey was celebrating Thanksgiving with her husband’s family. Quinn missed having an older sister. She kind of missed having a family, even if it was a little screwed up, but she really didn’t miss her father as much as she thought she would. She loved him, but he was intimidating and she breathed a little easier when he wasn’t around.

It was quiet through dinner though their mother tried to get them both to talk. Their mother was an amazing cook and Quinn genuinely enjoyed the actual meal. But it was extremely uncomfortable to have to force a conversation and it was even more uncomfortable when Rachel spent most of the meal pushing food around rather than eating it, even though their mother did her best to have some vegan alternatives.

She was too skinny-- she’d come back from Mansfield _tiny_ and it just got worse. It wasn’t quite to the point it was frightening, and Rachel could cover it up with the right combination of clothing and it was winter, so it was easier to do. But she worried about it, even though she never said anything.

Quinn was in her bedroom studying that night when she heard shouting from downstairs. For a moment she thought maybe her mother was talking to her father on the phone, but then she realized her mother was yelling at _Rachel_ which her mother never did because Rachel never gave her a reason to.

Quinn went to the top of the stairs to eavesdrop. Rachel and their mother were standing by the front door and since Judy had finished yelling, Rachel was giving their mother a soft apology.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s just that it’s Thanksgiving and he was going to be all alone.”

“Well, your father should have thought of that before he cheated on me with some tattooed freak!”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said softly. “I really am, Mom. But you know nothing is open on Thanksgiving except for fast food and restaurants and I just didn’t want him to eat alone in a restaurant or have to go somewhere with a drive thru.”

“Your father made his choice,” Judy snapped. “Where is your loyalty? You’re living with _me_ not with him and I highly doubt he’d want you to live with him even if you wanted to. Do you think after he cheated on me I’d want him fed with food I spent _all day_ making for my daughters? I cooked for you and Quinn, not for him. How do you think that makes me feel that you went behind my back and took him food that I cooked?”

Rachel was quiet. She hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t…I didn’t think of it that way.”

“I don’t want you seeing your father again, is that clear? Your father made his choice.”

Rachel nodded. “Yes, Mom.”

“ _I’m_ the one who wanted you here. I had to _fight_ him to bring you here. I had to fight your grandparents and the courts who thought you were better off with blood relatives than with people who loved you. Your loyalty is to me! Do you understand? You’re _my_ daughter! Mine!”

Quinn winced in sympathy as their mother’s voice bordered on hysteria.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel offered quietly.

“Don’t even _think_ about seeing your father next month on your birthday! And don’t even think about doing this again on Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Go to your room. Just get out of my sight.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Quinn fled to her room once she heard Rachel come up the stairs and she threw herself on her bed and opened up her history textbook. Her mother stormed into her room a few minutes later.

“What about you? Did _you_ take your father food that I spent all day cooking?”

Quinn shook her head. “No.”

“What was your sister thinking?! Your father made his bed and now he needs to lie around in it.”

“I don’t know,” Quinn said quietly and she felt guilty because she knew Rachel would have defended her if their positions were reversed. And she also felt a little guilty because while she did think about her father-- it was impossible not to, but she never once thought about what he was doing on Thanksgiving or what he was eating or to bring him food. She was glad she didn’t given her mother’s reaction, but she sort of wished she’d at least _thought_ about doing it.

“I don’t want you seeing your father, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And you _tell_ me if you catch your sister trying to see him again. I don’t want either of you girls near that man. Is that clear? You’re _my_ daughters.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Quinn had just finished washing her hands when Rachel came into the bathroom.

“Oh.” Rachel said. “Sorry.” She quickly backed away.

“Way to go pissing her off and ruining Thanksgiving,” Quinn said brusquely.

“I just didn’t want him to be alone,” Rachel said quietly. ”It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Well, he’s not even your dad,” Quinn snapped. “Your faggot dads are dead.”

She didn’t even have control over the venom that spewed from her mouth anymore. How was it possible that she didn’t have control over her own mouth?

“I know,” Rachel said softly. She left quickly.

Quinn looked at her reflection in the mirror. She picked her cup up off the sink. There were two cups at the sink which she and Rachel used to rinse their mouths out after they brushed their teeth. They used to use the same one until she’d insisted she didn’t want to use the same cup Rachel used, and bought a new one just for herself, emphatically telling Rachel not to touch hers. But the truth was, she never used the cup that she bought-- she still used the old one, the one that was considered solely Rachel’s now, because she thought it was the closest she’d ever get to having her lips on Rachel’s. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever got caught using Rachel’s cup, but so far it hadn’t happened.

She held her cup in her hands and then looked at her reflection with disgust and she couldn’t take it anymore. She hurled the cup at the mirror, cracking it. It didn’t shatter and fall into pieces, but it was definitely unusable.

Rachel ran into the bathroom, alarmed. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Quinn said sharply.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Rachel moved toward her, but Quinn stepped back.

“Get away from me, Man Hands!”

“Sorry,” Rachel said, retreating. “Are you okay? Are you cut anywhere?”

Quinn ignored her and left the room.

The mirror stayed cracked for a week before it got fixed. It was one of the better weeks in Quinn’s life because she didn’t have to look at herself anymore.

Things in the home were tense, but without Russell around, everyone seemed to breathe a little easier because at least they didn’t have to tiptoe around him. Quinn and Rachel had a little more freedom and that made things less hard.

\--

After all that fuss and drama, her mother took her father back by Quinn’s seventeenth birthday.

Junior year was mostly over by then and Quinn was counting down the days until she could flee Lima.

With her father back in the house, things became oppressive again and since life became so difficult for her at home, Quinn made things even more difficult for Rachel at home _and_ at school.

“My family never had any problems until you came into it!” Quinn shouted. “You ruined everything!”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said quietly.

“You ruined everything for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered.

She had a few arguments with her parents over her treatment of Rachel and she outwardly blamed Rachel for each one, even though she inwardly knew she was destroying herself, destroying Rachel and destroying her family.  
\--

Then one night, Quinn was descending the stairs when she saw Rachel quietly approach their parents who were sitting in the living room. She looked somber and serious and Quinn instinctively knew something was going to happen. She sat down at the stairs rather than finish descending.

Rachel took a deep breath before she spoke. “I don’t think I should live here anymore.” She gave them both a small smile. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t want to cause any more trouble with you and Quinn and my presence here is just becoming increasingly disruptive.”

“Tough,” Russell said bluntly. “We’re your parents, now go upstairs to your bedroom and go to bed.”

Rachel held her ground. She wouldn’t look them in the eye. “I started looking into adoption dissolution,” she said quietly. “It’s not that hard, but we’ll have to go to court again.”

“Rachel, what did you do?” Judy asked quietly, afraid.

“I didn’t do anything yet, I just researched it. But I’m ready to move on it, if you are.”

“I’m not entertaining this crap,” Russell said. “I am not going to invite even more scrutiny on this family by having you take us to court to dissolve your adoption. Shut your mouth and go to bed. Right now.”

“But--”

“Shut your mouth and go to bed. And I don’t want to hear about this ever again, do you understand me?”

“Yes, but--”

“Rachel, go to bed and out of my sight before I do something we both regret.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Rachel backed out of the room. She stopped when she reached the bottom of the stairs and stared up at Quinn who was still sitting on a step.

Quinn sneered at her. “You know he doesn’t actually want you here. He never did. No one wants you here, you pathetic tranny. But only someone as pathetic as you would stay where you’re obviously not wanted.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“If you really wanted what’s good for _my_ family, you’d just leave.”

“I’m trying,” Rachel said weakly. “I’m trying to give you what you want.”

“Well, try harder.”

\--

Quinn didn’t think it’d actually happen. Rachel really didn’t have anywhere else she could go, so Quinn didn’t think Rachel would actually leave. She didn’t think either of her parents would agree to it, so she didn’t care about toning it down-- she just continued to take out her rage about the unfairness of the world and her disgust with herself out on Rachel. She never thought her parents would agree to let Rachel go.  
  
But then they did.

\--

Their parents adamantly refused to dissolve the adoption, even though Rachel begged.

“I’m almost eighteen anyway!”

“You’re _sixteen_ ,” their father pointed out grimly. “Which is a long way from eighteen.”

But Rachel went back to live with her biological grandparents in Mansfield.

Rachel left and Quinn felt like she could breathe a little easier now that the brunette wasn’t in proximity. Her father went about his life like nothing changed but her mother was devastated.

“Why couldn’t you just try to get along with her? She’s your sister. You used to adore her. You couldn’t wait to bring her home.”

“She’s not my sister.”

\--

“You’re a bitch,” Santana told her bluntly.

Aubrey texted her the day after Rachel left: _You’re hateful_.

\--

Their junior year finished out with Rachel in Mansfield. She joined the glee club at her new high school and she carried her new team to Regionals, competed against New Directions and won. She seemed happy and Quinn watched, burning with jealousy, as Rachel was engulfed in hugs from her new team.

New Directions didn’t seem to mind the loss. Santana and Brittany were thrilled to see her and Finn picked Rachel up and spun her around without fear of reprisal from Quinn.

“We could have won,” Santana told her on the bus ride back to Lima. “We could have won this, but you had to chase her away. What is _wrong_ with you? She’s your sister.”

If Santana wouldn’t keep referring to Rachel as her sister, Quinn would have told her friend exactly what was wrong with her, because the burden of holding it in was killing her. Santana was misanthropic and bitchy, but she wasn’t judgey. But Santana wouldn’t stop referring to Rachel as ‘your sister’ and Quinn imagined the look of horror Santana would give her if she ever admitted that she was in love with her sister and she just couldn’t tell.

\--

Quinn didn’t see Rachel for months. She knew their mother visited Rachel once a week and even their father made the trek to Mansfield once or twice a month, but she never went.

\--

Quinn woke up in the middle of one December night during senior year to the sound of commotion. Quinn got up and walked out her room and into her parents’ bedroom. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Your sister’s in the hospital,” her mother said grimly. “I’m going to Mansfield to pick her up.”

Quinn swallowed. “What happened to Rachel?”

“Why do you care?” her father asked. “Go back to bed.”

\--

Her mother and her father left separately. Her mother went to pick Rachel up at the hospital, her father went to pick up Rachel’s belongings at her grandparents’ house.

Quinn couldn’t go back to sleep. Neither of her parents would tell her what happened, and so she waited up for Rachel to come home.

Her mother and Rachel beat her father home. They walked in from the garage, arguing. Rachel had never talked back to either of their parents, and it was jarring to hear Rachel yell. Quinn stared at Rachel and her eyes welled with tears-- Rachel’s face and neck were bruised and her arm was in a sling-- the same arm that she’d broken so many years before.

“You had no right to take me from them! They’re my grandparents!”

“I had every right to take you from them! This is the second time your grandfather has broken your arm! I’m your mother and this is our home and this is where you belong!”

“You’re not my mother!” Rachel shouted. “And this isn’t my house! I didn’t want to come back here!”

“Well, that’s too bad because until you’re eighteen, you do what I say because in the eyes of the law, I _am_ your mother! I’m the only mother you have!”

“No, you’re not!” Rachel shouted. “I have a birth mom!”

“She was just a surrogate!”

“No, she isn’t!” Rachel screamed. “She found me! She’s my mom, not you! My grandmother told me the truth! You never wanted me! You were just in love with my father and since you couldn’t have him, you decided I was the consolation prize! You’re not my mom. You--”

Quinn jumped as their mother slapped Rachel across the face so violently that Rachel stumbled back.

“If your birth mother wanted you, you would be with her and not here, you ungrateful little brat!” Judy snapped. She seemed to realize just a moment too late what she said and did. Judy covered her mouth, horrified. “Rachel. Honey, I--”

“You aren’t my mom!”

“Honey, I…” Judy reached for Rachel, but Rachel recoiled. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Why do you even care?” Rachel asked. “If you really cared about me, you would have left me there. I was happy there!”

Judy swallowed hard. “Whatever you might believe, I’m your mother and it’s my job to protect you,” she said quietly. “I never should have let you go back to your grandparents. They were mistreating you, Rachel. How could you really be happy there?”

“What makes you think I’m so happy here?” Rachel asked quietly. “I was happier there. I hate you for ever bringing me to this house.” Rachel said quietly. “You _never_ should have brought me here. You took me away from them. They’re _my_ grandparents. They’re my real family, not _you_ and not this family.”

“Whatever you believe, your last name is still Fabray.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be.”

It was quiet for a moment before Judy spoke.

“Rachel, I wish your fathers were still alive, too,” Judy said quietly.

Rachel’s face trembled. “You should have never brought me here. What makes you believe I’m better off here than with my grandparents? You should have left me there.” She turned and walked away, and passed Quinn at the bottom of the stairs. Quinn stared at Rachel, wide-eyed.

“Get out of my way!” Rachel shouted, pushing past Quinn.

Quinn swallowed hard and approached her mother quietly. “Was Rachel in an accident?”

Her mother’s features were grim. “It wasn’t an accident.” She stared at Quinn. “She’s your sister, Quinn. I don’t care how much you wish she weren’t, she’s not going anywhere, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go anyway and she is _not_ leaving this house again just because _you_ can’t get along with her. This is where she belongs. She’s your _sister_ and I don’t want to hear one more word out of you about how she doesn’t belong here or how she’s not your sister. Am I making myself clear?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said weakly.

“You’re both going to college soon and you’re just going to have to deal with the fact that she lives here for a few more months. Am I understood?”

“Yes.”

“She’s your sister, Quinn.”

Quinn was silent.

Her mother’s eyes were cold. “I want you to say it, Quinn.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “She’s my sister.”

God, it just felt so wrong to say it.

“I’m not going to tolerate this anymore, Quinn. Your sister belongs here just as much as you do.”

Quinn swallowed hard again. “I know.”

“Then you better start acting like it.”  
\--

Rachel was somber and sullen after she came home, but Quinn heard Rachel proffer a soft and sincere apology to their mother the night after she came back and she thanked their father for picking up her things at her grandparents’ house. Quinn knew Rachel told their parents a few more details about her birth mom, like how her birth mother found her, but Quinn wasn’t privy to them. Things between Rachel and their parents were okay, but things between her and Rachel were essentially non-existent.

Rachel joined New Directions _again_ and everyone seemed pretty happy with that. It had more to do with Rachel’s talent than anything else, but Quinn could tell that Rachel felt it was nice to be wanted. Rachel needed surgery on her arm and there were concerns about the arm healing properly since it was the second spiral fracture the arm sustained. It did heal eventually and quicker than anyone expected, but she was still in the cast for two months.

\--

Mike threw a party at his house in honor of Rachel getting the cast off. Quinn suspected he had a crush on Rachel, but Rachel still only had eyes for Finn. Finn and Rachel weren’t dating, but they were spending a lot of time together and it was only a matter of time.

“Dude,” Puck said. “Sisters. Wait to go, man.”

He put his fist out for a fist bump.

Quinn, Rachel and Finn all glared at him and Puck dropped his fist, looking chastised. “It’s not my fault every dude dreams of doing hot sisters,” he muttered sullenly.

Puck still treated Rachel like shit sometimes, but he’d stopped Slushieing her.  
\--

Quinn drank too much that night. She’d abstained through her pregnancy with Beth, of course, but once Beth was born, she went back to drinking copious amounts of alcohol on the weekends. She’d built up a tolerance, but she still drank way too much and she was in that place in between buzzed and drunk. She was stumbling around Mike’s house looking for a bathroom when she found Rachel being led toward a bedroom by Steve Feldman, the pitcher on the Varsity baseball team.

Rachel was stumbling and Steve was half dragging, half carrying her. She’d watched Rachel for most of the night and she’d seen Rachel take a shot with Santana and Brittany, grimacing comically and chugging down the cranberry juice chaser. She knew Mike and Puck both mixed some drinks for Rachel. Rachel was small and obviously didn’t drink much-- she was a lightweight.

Quinn swallowed hard and she felt her back cramp up with tension. She thought about seeing Rachel held down on her bed while some _animals_ violated her. She couldn’t stop being horrible to Rachel, but Quinn couldn’t let something so awful happen to Rachel again. She rushed forward and grabbed Rachel by the arm.

Rachel looked at her in confusion. ”Quinn?”

Rachel’s eyes were glassy and glazed over. She smelled like a distillery.

“It’s time to go home,” Quinn said. “Right now.”

“But we didn’t come together.”

“It’s time to go home,” Quinn repeated.

“Listen, Quinn. I can give Rachel a ride home once we’re done hanging out,” Steve said.

“I bet,” Quinn said darkly. “But it’s time to go home.”

“I can take your sister home.”

“You’re not though. So let her go.”

Rachel yanked her arm away from Quinn. “Leave me alone.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “If you want to fuck Steve, then fine. But if not, then we’re going home.”

Rachel looked confused. She looked at Steve. “We’re just going to talk, right?”

He smiled at her. “Of course.”

Quinn didn’t trust him. “You guys can talk when she’s sober.”

“I want to talk to her now.”

“Well, you can call her tomorrow.”

Steve’s smile hardened. “You aren’t the boss of your sister, Fabray.”

She was getting frustrated. She was too drunk to deal with this. She opened her mouth to respond but then Finn appeared at her side. “What’s going on?”

Rachel beamed at him. “Finn!” She left Steve’s side and threw herself at Finn.

Finn smiled affectionately and hugged her. Now that he and Quinn weren’t dating, he really didn’t care how Quinn felt when she talked to Rachel. He didn’t think it was Quinn’s business anymore. “You’re drunk, Rach. I think it’s time for you to go home. I’ll give you a ride, okay?”

Rachel nodded against his chest. “Okay. I was just going to talk to Steve for a little bit. He was going to tell me about spending last summer in New York.” She smiled. “You know I’m going to go to Julliard in the fall.”

“I know, Rach.” Finn said. He stroked her hair. He glared at Steve. “But I think you guys can talk about New York when you’re sober enough to remember it. Right, Feldman?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Right, Hudson.”

Rachel pulled away from Finn and leaned toward Steve. She was drunkenly unbalanced so that she almost toppled over. Quinn moved toward her, but Finn grabbed a hold of Rachel’s waist.

“Finn makes a very good point,” Rachel said, smiling at Steve. “We should wait to have our discussion another day when I am more likely to retain all the information you have to give me.”

Steve smiled. “Sure thing, short stuff.” He glared at Quinn and Finn. “See you, Quinn. See you around, Hudson.”

“Right,” Finn said.

Finn and Quinn watched as Steve walked away.

“Come on,” Finn said to Quinn. “I’ll take you both home.” His tone was brusque when he addressed her, but it softened when he addressed Rachel. “Did you bring a bag or a jacket, Rachel? Let’s get it and go.”

Rachel beamed at him. “Okay.”

\--

Quinn was relieved their parents were off on a Valentine’s Day getaway because Rachel was loudly and drunkenly singing the ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ song on a continuous loop as they entered the house.

“Thank you, Finn!” Rachel said as he left her room after helping her up the stairs. “I’ll see you soon!”

Finn was chuckling and softly humming the ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ song to himself when he exited Rachel’s room, but he stopped smiling when he saw Quinn. He was still cold with her.

“Take care of her if she gets sick,” he said. “She doesn’t drink as much as you do. I left a couple of bottles of water and Aspirin on her nightstand so the only thing _you_ have to do is to help her _if_ she’s sick. Can you at least do that?”

“Sure,” Quinn said quietly.

He snorted in derision and walked past her. “Don’t forget to lock the front door and set the alarm after I leave,” he said. “I know it’s just the two of you.”

“I won’t,” she said.

He softened. “You’re pretty drunk, too,” he said. “Drink some water before you go to bed, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good night, Quinn.”

“Good night.”

She walked him out, locked the door and set the alarm.

She was going to her room when she heard a loud crash followed by Rachel’s raucous laughter. Quinn opened the door to Rachel’s room and found Rachel on the floor, her shirt over her head. Quinn’s mouth went dry and she unconsciously licked her lips as she stared at Rachel’s lacy bra. Rachel continued to struggle to take her shirt off and Quinn realized that Rachel must be _really_ drunk

Rachel finally took her shirt off with a triumphant squeak and threw it to the ground victoriously. She gasped and immediately covered herself when she saw Quinn standing there.

“I heard a crash,” Quinn said. “I just came to make sure you didn’t kill yourself.”

Rachel giggled. “I tripped over my shoe trying to take my shirt off.” She lifted up her right foot which was bare and then lifted up her left foot which still had the shoe on. She frowned. “Where did my shoe go?”

Quinn rolled her eyes as she pictured Rachel falling over. She walked into Rachel’s room and held her hand out to Rachel.

Rachel looked at her suspiciously. “Why are you in my room?”

“Just get off the floor,” Quinn snapped. “Get into bed.”

Rachel hesitantly took her hand and Quinn hefted her up with more force than she intended because Rachel stumbled into her. Quinn froze as she felt Rachel’s soft breasts press into her. Quinn moved her head so she could smell Rachel’s hair and inhaled deeply. Rachel smelled amazing. They used the same shampoo and conditioner, but she didn’t think her hair smelled like that.

“Sorry,” Rachel mumbled, taking a step back

Quinn’s head was swimming with alcohol and lust. Rachel was just so close and only half-dressed. This was the closest they’d been in _years_ , at least discounting that time Rachel had tackled her to the ground their freshman year over the comment Quinn made about Rachel’s fathers.

Quinn reached for Rachel and pulled her back, closer.

“What are you doing?” Rachel whispered.

Quinn didn’t respond. She pulled Rachel even closer, close enough that Rachel’s breasts pressed into her again. And then she kissed her.

Rachel wrenched herself away and stared at Quinn in shock.

“Oh God,” Quinn whispered, horrified. “Oh God. Oh God.”

Rachel swallowed hard, and shook her head slightly. “It’s okay,” she murmured “It’s okay,” she crooned softly. “Look, it’s okay. It was an accident, right? And--”

Quinn cut her off with another kiss.

Rachel pulled away. “Quinn,” she protested, her voice weak. “You’re drunk. You…you can’t want this.”

“Shut up,” Quinn hissed. “Shut up, shut up. You want this,” she said, more for her own benefit. She had to believe that Rachel wanted it because now that she’d come this far, she couldn’t stop. She pulled Rachel back and kissed her again.

Rachel kissed her back.

\--

Quinn didn’t know how this was happening, but it was. She knew she should stop it. She was drunk and Rachel was drunk and oh God, they were _sisters_ even if there was no blood relationship. But somehow they’d managed to shut Rachel’s bedroom door, dim the lights, undress each other and now Rachel was naked and Quinn had kissed, licked or sucked nearly every inch of Rachel’s body. The scent of Rachel’s hair, the scent of her skin, the scent of _her_ was intoxicating and Quinn felt herself become even more inebriated. Every inch of Rachel felt and tasted amazing. She was rougher with Rachel than she wanted to be, slapping her, pulling her hair, blaming her for this predicament but Rachel never cried.

There were a few weak protests, “please, stop. No.” But Quinn pushed on and soon Rachel was compliant, whispering a few soft “okay”s.

And then the feel of Rachel’s hand between her thighs-- God, how many times had she fantasized about it? It was more amazing than she ever imagined All those nights she spent with her hand furtively between her thighs when she imagined Rachel touching her couldn’t have prepared her for _this_. Rachel’s fingers moved inside her and then Rachel’s mouth was on her-- kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling. She came with a hoarse cry, Rachel’s lips still sucking on her clit. And then she came again.

They didn’t talk. They _couldn’t_. They didn’t say anything other than a few strangled pleas.

And when their energies were finally spent, they lay there gasping.

Quinn swallowed hard and stared up at the ceiling, the enormity of what she’d just done sinking in. God, what did she _do_?

“You fucking pervert,” she whispered. “You’re _sick_. We’re _sisters_. How could you do this? What did you _do_?”

She meant it for herself, but she said it out loud.

Rachel’s reaction was immediate. She released a soft gasp and then she scrambled away, nearly stumbling out of the bed. Her own bed.

Quinn panicked when she realized Rachel had misinterpreted, that Rachel believed Quinn was talking to _her_ rather than just talking out loud to herself, but she couldn’t find the words to stop Rachel. Rachel redressed quickly, ran out of the room and out of the house. She set the alarm off, but she didn’t bother turning it off.

Quinn got up and ran down the stairs and shut off the alarm. She thought about running after Rachel but then she’d have to explain _everything_. Tears sprang to her eyes. What did it matter what Rachel thought? After this, their relationship was completely beyond repair. She’d just _fucked_ her sister and it’d been _amazing_ \-- so beyond her deepest hopes and fervent fantasies. But it was her darkest desire, the thing she’d pushed away for _years_ and now that it happened Quinn didn’t know what to do. But she knew she shouldn’t have done it.

And now Rachel thought… Quinn didn’t want to think about that.

‘It’s better this way,’ Quinn thought.

The alarm company called and Quinn answered the phone and dully gave the password, said a polite thank-you and then hung up.

Everything that came after that was an inconsequential amalgamation of time and obligation.

She and Rachel rarely uttered a word to each other after that and by the time they went their separate ways to college-- Quinn to UCLA and Rachel to Julliard, Quinn was fairly certain she could count her relationship with Rachel as a permanent loss. It wasn’t okay with her-- it felt terrible, but she was fairly sure it was the best possible thing for both of them.  



	7. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 8806

Chapter 7

  
Leaving Lima for Los Angeles was quite possibly the best decision she could have ever made for herself. She was far enough away from Lima and everyone and everything she came from that she finally felt herself mellow out. Within the first two months of college, she made new friends, met a girl she liked and found that living in LA suited her, despite the fact that it was occasionally terrifying.

“It’s nice to have you back, friend,” Brittany said. “Were the aliens who abducted you nice to you?”

Brittany and Santana were living in Berkeley, so they were only an hour away by plane. They hadn’t visited each other yet, but they’d talked regularly since they all moved to California.

Quinn was confused. “What?” she asked blankly.

“Well, you’re back to your old self. Kinda. I thought maybe you just got abducted by aliens and they left a pod person who looked like you behind.”

“Whatever, Brittany.”

But she kind of did feel like herself again.

Then Thanksgiving came around. She didn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving-- it was so far away for just a long weekend, but it was important to her mother and so Quinn braved the airport and the crowds.

Her father picked her up. “We have to wait for your sister, her flight comes in an hour after yours.”

“She’s coming home?”

From what she heard from her mother, Santana and Brittany, Rachel seemed pretty set on not coming home.

“You may be 18, but your sister isn’t yet. She didn’t have a choice.”

Quinn nodded. “Oh.”

They waited together and Quinn answered a few perfunctory questions about school and her life in LA. She had to withhold some of the details from him, like the belly piercing she got the first week she moved to LA and the fact she was dating a _girl_ with a suspicious resemblance to her adopted sister, but she tried to be as honest as she could.

But trying to sort out what she could and could not tell her father was precisely why she didn’t want to come home to Lima. She was just so tired of hiding and suppressing the truth. And while she would never tell anyone _I’m in love with my adopted sister and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact I’ll never get to be with her because of everything I did to her and I’m pretty sure she hates me anyway_ , now that she was in LA, she was finally living a life that felt more honest.

She wasn’t one of those people who felt like she should be able to tell her parents everything-- she had boundaries for God’s sake, and there were stories a person shouldn’t tell her parents. But the things she felt she had to keep from her father, from both her parents, really, weren’t risqué stories of adolescent debauchery, they were basic facts about her life like the fact that she was pretty sure she was always gay and now she was dating agirl. She didn’t want to come back to Lima and start lying again-- it was just too hard after experiencing freedom.

But she loved her family as screwed up as it was, and if her mother wanted her home for Thanksgiving, she’d come home.

“There’s your sister.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped up and she searched for Rachel. It was hard at first-- Rachel was a small figure trying to shove her way through the crowd, but finally Quinn spotted her.

“Hi Dad,” Rachel greeted, standing on tip toe to give him a kiss on the cheek when she finally reached them.

It was an eerie repeat of Quinn’s greeting to him, though Quinn addressed him as ‘Daddy,’ and it hit Quinn again how similar they were in some respects because they’d grown up together. They were _sisters_ , no matter how much Quinn wished they weren’t and little things like the fact they both greeted their father the same way were proof they truly were related. She couldn’t outrun that.

“Hi Quinn,” Rachel said politely. She didn’t really look at Quinn.

“Hi Rachel,” Quinn said quietly. She was chagrined to find the time apart had done nothing to diminish her desire.

The car ride back to the house was mostly quiet after Rachel answered the same perfunctory series of questions that Quinn answered about school and her new life.

“Judy!” their father boomed as they entered the house. “The twins are home!”

Their mother greeted them excitedly and for a while the tension between them was forgotten. Judy told them both that they were too thin and Quinn and Rachel shared a look and each rolled their eyes.

“Stop worrying, Mom,” they said at the same time.

In actuality, Rachel had gained a little weight while she’d been away. Not a lot, but just a little and it looked good on her-- Quinn was actually relieved. She was still probably too thin, but Quinn felt maybe she could stop worrying.

Their mother smiled at them. She chuckled softly and exchanged a look with her husband. “Yes,” she said with a laugh. “The twins _are_ home.”

It was like a kick to Quinn’s stomach.

\--

When they said grace over the Thanksgiving meal, Quinn added a silent prayer.

‘Please God, make me stop wanting her. Please God, make me see her as my sister. And please God, help me fix it by making me stop wanting her so much. Please God. Please. I won’t ever be able to fix it when I want her this much. And I have to fix it. Please God, she’s my sister. Please God, please let me have her in my life. Please God, you have to let me see her as my sister if I get to have her in my life. Please God, please. I’ll do anything, just let me see her as my sister. She’s my sister.’

But God apparently wasn’t listening because seeing Rachel again just made her want Rachel more and not in a way she felt was appropriate.

\--

They didn’t talk the entire time they were home. Quinn desperately wanted to, and she even raised her hand to Rachel’s door a few times to knock but she just couldn’t follow through. She just wanted Rachel too much and knowing she’d never have Rachel the way she wanted was just too painful. And after everything she’d said and done to Rachel, she was too ashamed. She wanted to explain everything, because she thought if she could just explain, then maybe Rachel could forgive her-- Rachel was so forgiving. But she also knew if she ever told the truth, Rachel would be appalled and repulsed. And so she couldn’t be around Rachel.

\--

She went back to school and breathed a sigh of relief. She went home again a few weeks later for Winter Break, but this time Rachel didn’t come home.

“Your sister has a part in a play,” her father told her. “It’s off-Broadway, whatever that means. She’s not going home at all, not even for Christmas. She’s eighteen now and we can’t force her.”

\--

Rachel didn’t come home again until their junior year. She always had one excuse or another for not coming home-- a sinus infection, work, a part in a play, _something._

Judy was despondent. “She doesn’t want to come home!”

“Leave her be,” Russell said gruffly. “She’s working on her career. If she’s going to choose something so irrational and unreliable, at least she’s earning money. I’m just glad she’s finding work.”

Quinn focused on school and trying to set up a new identity for herself other than bitchy cheerleader from a small town or the high school slut who got knocked up at sixteen. She panicked a little one day when Brittany called her one night and admitted she’d accidentally told Rachel about Quinn’s latest girlfriend drama. After everything she did to Rachel, Quinn thought she’d deserve it if Rachel told their parents about it. Quinn wasn’t ashamed of it, but she wasn’t ready for her parents to find out. But Brittany assured her Rachel swore she wouldn’t tell anyone and though Quinn knew she didn’t deserve Rachel’s loyalty, she also knew she had it.

\--

When Rachel finally announced she was coming home for a few days for winter break during their junior year, their mother was elated and even their father seemed excited until he picked Quinn up at the airport. His mood seemed dark and she was afraid to ask what was wrong. She thought maybe Rachel had changed her mind and chosen not to come home after all. It was a silent car ride for a while until her father spoke.

“Your sister is bringing some _woman_ she’s been dating for the past two years.”

“Rachel’s dating a girl?” Quinn asked quietly. She was in between girlfriends at the moment. She’d never been able to make something work longer than a few months, so it was surprising to her that Rachel had been in a relationship for so long. It was more surprising she’d never heard about it, she thought she’d at least get information from Santana and Brittany since she heard little snippets of Rachel’s life from them.

Russell looked upset. “Yes,” he spat out. “Your mother and I did our best with her, but as you know, she was raised by degenerates until she was four and God only knows what was wrong with her birth mother.” He sighed. “Nature over nurture, I suppose. I always knew it wasn’t enough with that one-- we didn’t get her early enough.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yes.”

\--

Rachel’s girlfriend was a tall blonde named Emily who was ten years older than Rachel. That seemed to bother their parents more than the fact that Emily was a woman.

In fact, their mother seemed completely freaked out by it.

“She’s _thirty_ ,” her mother whispered to her in the kitchen before they sat down to dinner. “By the time I was thirty, I’d already had Aubrey and I was pregnant with you. Your sister just turned _twenty_ ! What could they possibly have in common?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn answered quietly.

“You know your sister is very impressionable, and she’s only twenty. She shouldn’t be with someone so much older. That woman is probably taking advantage of her! Your sister _never_ expressed any interest in women before.” Her mother looked extremely distressed. “Your sister’s only twenty years old-- who knows what kind of ideas that woman is putting into her head-- she’s probably the reason your sister never wants to come home!”

“I really don’t know anything, Mom,” Quinn said softly. While she was no longer Slushieing Rachel, calling her names and making her life miserable, she still wasn’t on speaking terms with Rachel. Rachel’s life was as much a mystery to her as it was to their parents and she was pretty sure that she was the reason Rachel never wanted to come home.

The dinner was a deeply uncomfortable affair, but neither Rachel nor her girlfriend seemed bothered.

Their father was blunt. “What the hell is going on?”

Rachel babbled on at length about her latest play through Julliard, oblivious to the fact that everyone at the table was staring at her.

“Rachel,” Emily cut off gently. “I think your father wants to know how we got together and what’s going on with _us_ , not about how much you liked being in _Hedda Gabbler_.”

Rachel’s cheeks were pink. “Sorry. You know I lack the ability to pick up on social cues. It’s a borderline Aspergers thing.”

“You’re not Aspergers, baby. If you were, you’d be much smarter.”

Rachel threw her head back and laughed, but Quinn and their mother bristled.

“Are you implying Rachel isn’t smart?” Judy demanded. “Because she was in the top five--”

“It was a joke, Mom,” Rachel interjected gently.

“Rachel isn’t even old enough to drink yet,” Russell said. “She just turned _twenty_ and she’s still in college. You’re thirty years old. What could you possibly have in common with her?”

Emily seemed unruffled. “Rachel’s very mature. The age difference doesn’t bother either of us.”

Russell looked at Emily suspiciously. “I know my daughter, so I know what _you_ might get out this relationship, but what would she?”

“Dad!” Rachel exclaimed.

Emily smiled. “Well, sir. I’m an attorney and since Rachel is an actress and many actresses have a predilection for getting in legal trouble, I feel it’s good for her to be involved with me. I can mount her defense if she ever commits a crime.”

Rachel giggled softly and she swatted at Emily’s arm. “Em!”

He didn’t seem to think that was funny, and really, it seemed like the wrong time to make a joke.

‘What is wrong with this woman?’ Quinn wondered.

“Rachel has absolutely _no_ proclivity for getting into trouble, legal or otherwise.”

“Dad,” Rachel said softly. “It was a joke.”

“Rachel, she’s too old for you.” Russell said bluntly. “If you’re going to date a woman, you should at least date someone closer to your own age. Another student. Ten years is too much.”

“Sir, I don’t think you understand the purpose of our visit,” Emily said.

He glared. “And what’s that?”

“Rachel and I are getting married after she graduates next year. We’re here to announce our engagement.”

It physically hurt. Those words uttered by that woman incurred an actual somatic reaction in Quinn. Her chest hurt so much she thought she was having a heart attack.

“Over my dead body,” Russell snapped. “You’re too old for her!”

“Dad,” Rachel protested weakly. “She’s really good to me. If you would just get to know her--”

“Rachel, shut up,” he snarled.

“Rachel, get up,” Emily said.

Rachel looked at her “What?”

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

“But--”

“Get up.”

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly, getting up.

“Rachel, sit down,” Russell said.

Rachel moved to sit, her obedience to parental authority was long and deeply ingrained but Emily reached out and put her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “We’re leaving,” she said firmly. “Sir, if you can’t be civil to Rachel then we’re not going to stay here.”

Russell was so enraged, his face turned red. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me how I can speak to my own child in my own home. Do you pay the mortgage here? Do you put this food on the table?”

“Well, sir. If you can’t be respectful, then I’ll have to point that out to you.” Emily’s hand wrapped around Rachel’s arm. “Rachel, come _on_.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. She looked at Russell and Judy and gave them frail smiles. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to keep disrupting this family. I just thought this was something you should know.”

“Rachel, please don’t leave. Sit down,” Judy said quietly.

“Let’s go, Rach,” Emily said.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said again.

And then Rachel was gone. Once Rachel left, Russell slammed his hands on the table, causing Quinn and her mother to jump. He got up from the table and stalked out of the dining room into his study.

Judy was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t like her. Did you?”

Quinn chuckled ruefully. “I didn’t like her, either,” she admitted. But then again she was extremely biased.

\--

Their junior and senior years passed, and Quinn just went about her own life while hearing snippets of Rachel from their parents, Aubrey, Santana and Brittany.

She just tried to focus on her own life. She studied hard and made good grades. She played hard with good friends and was a regular fixture at the bars in West Hollywood and Hollywood. She still couldn’t sustain a relationship for more than a few months, but the great thing about living in LA was that there was no shortage of tiny beautiful brown-eyed brunettes.

“Shrimp agreed to postpone the wedding for another year,” Aubrey announced when they talked on the phone one July afternoon shortly after graduation. “Emily’s pissed but Mom and Dad are happy. I think Rachel is having second thoughts and just won’t admit it.”

“Oh,” Quinn said quietly.

\--

A few months later, Quinn was woken up by a call in the middle of the night by her mother. It was a little after 2 am, and Quinn had only been in bed for about an hour. She’d graduated from UCLA, but she was _back_ at UCLA for their MBA program, so she still had her student immunity.

“Mom?” she asked, disoriented. “What’s wrong?”

Her mother was sobbing hysterically and it took her a few minutes to calm down. But when she finally did, her voice quivered. “Your sister’s been in an accident. They’re not certain she’s going to make it. You need to go to her right now. She’s in LA at St. Mary’s Medical Centre.”

Quinn blinked. “Why is Aubrey in LA?”

“This isn’t the time to stick to your rivalry with your sister! Didn’t you hear me? Rachel’s been in an accident.”

Quinn felt her stomach clench. “I’ll be there,” she said quietly.

“Good,” her mother snapped.

It’s not that she didn’t care Rachel was in an accident-- she did. She _really_ did. She just… she never considered Rachel a sister because her feelings for Rachel had never been sisterly. When their mother said “sister,” she just automatically assumed Aubrey.

She called Aubrey.

“What happened to Rachel?” Quinn demanded.

Aubrey’s voice was nasal, like she’d been crying. “Rachel was out there for an audition and Emily went with her.” She sniffled. “I guess Emily was driving and she must have fallen asleep or something. They drove off the Shoemaker Bridge.”

“So, like, what? She has injuries from the crash? Broken bones, maybe?”

“They couldn’t find them for forty five minutes,” Aubrey said quietly. “She’s already brain dead, Quinn. But don’t tell mom and dad. They still think she has a chance and I don’t want them to get into an accident while they’re going to her.”

Quinn eyes pooled with tears. “Wait. What are you saying? She’s not…”

“I talked to someone at the hospital,” Aubrey said quietly. “They’re keeping her alive until we can get to her, but after that, she’s just an organ donor.”

“No,” Quinn said. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, Quinn.”

“Then it’s a mistake!”

“Quinn, you don’t even _like_ her, so stop pretending you care what happens to her. Don’t think I don’t know about the shitty way you’ve been treating her for the past few years. I just thought you’d grow out of it. But you need to stop wasting my time by pretending like you give a shit about her. I’m trying to get out there as soon as I can so I can relieve you, and you can go back to whatever it is you’re doing with your life, but you need to let me get off this fucking phone so I can get to her. Just be a sister to her, all right? Hold her hand and just wait with her until we can get to her. Can you do _that_ much for her?”

Her sister’s tone and words stung.

“I…I’ll get to her.”  
  
“I’ll be out there as soon as you can, but you better stay with her until Mom and Dad or I get there. No one should have to die alone. Don’t you dare let that happen to her.”

“She’s not going to die!”

“Just get to her.”

Quinn drove from Westwood to Long Beach in twenty minutes. When she got to St. Mary’s, she gave Rachel’s name and discovered that it was real. Rachel really had been in an accident and her prognosis wasn’t good.

\--

But it wasn’t as dire as Aubrey said it was, at least, not for Rachel. Emily wasn’t wearing a seatbelt at the time of the crash and so she’d been thrown from the car. The car itself with Rachel still in it, had plunged 30 feet into the water, but since Rachel was still strapped inside, there was a small air pocket as the car filled up with water, though it filled up very quickly because of the broken windshield. The water was extremely cold that night so that improved her chances. It took the dive team forty five minutes to find _Emily_ , but it took only twenty to find Rachel and it was _Emily_ , not Rachel who was brain dead.

Rachel, on the other hand, was unconscious when they got to her, and required CPR to revive her, but she still had evidence of brain activity when emergency rescue teams transported her to the hospital. Her situation was critical, but she was _alive_ and while she’d had two cardiac arrests between the time they pulled her out of the water and Quinn got to her, she _wasn’t_ brain dead. In all the confusion and desperation, Aubrey must have gotten it confused or received erroneous information. Rachel wasn’t in good shape and there was still a possibility she wouldn’t make it, but she had a _chance_.

Emily didn’t make it and Quinn was sorry for that. She really was. If Rachel loved her, then Quinn was sorry. But all she really cared about was that Rachel was alive and got better

It took a while for her to be able to see Rachel-- her situation was extremely critical, but she finally had the chance and Quinn breathed a low sigh of relief-- she was alive. She didn’t look good-- her face was so mottled, swollen and bruised, Quinn didn’t recognize her and thought maybe it was all a mistake. But she recognized Rachel’s hands, and though they were bruised, scraped, scratched and nearly all the nails were broken, torn and bleeding, she still recognized them. Rachel was in bad shape but she was alive.

She was _so_ so bruised and Quinn’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of how frail and damaged Rachel looked. She sat down next to Rachel’s bed, thanking God that at least Rachel was still alive and that she still had a fighting chance of recovery.

She knew she would never have Rachel the way she wanted, and there’d been times in her life when she thought it would have been easier if she’d never met Rachel. But that didn’t mean she wanted Rachel out of her life. Quinn didn’t want to think about how terrifying the experience must have been, given Rachel’s lifelong fear of water and drowning.

‘Please God, let her be okay. I’ll do anything. Just let her be okay.’

\--

Rachel was still unconscious when their parents arrived in LA. Their father looked grim and stoic, but their mother was in tears. Aubrey arrived soon after that and while she looked like she was going to cry, she just clenched her jaw and sat down.

After the third day, Rachel was still kept under medical sedation, but her eyes showed signs of movement and while there was brain swelling, there was still brain activity.  
  
Her father pulled her aside.

“Your mother hasn’t eaten anything in days,” he said gruffly. “You know the area better than we do. Leave the hospital and take her to get something to eat. Aubrey and I will stay with your sister.”

“I’ll just get her something from the cafeteria,” Quinn protested. “I want to stay with Rachel in case something happens and--”

“Quinn, the time for pretending you care for your sister was _before_ your mother and I have to talk about her funeral arrangements. I’m not asking you to be a sister. I’m asking you to be a _daughter_ and I’m telling you to take your mother out of this hospital to get something to eat. We’re probably going to lose your sister and we are not going to lose your mother, too.”

Quinn hung her head. “Okay,” she said softly.

\--

It took some cajoling, but her mother finally agreed to leave Rachel’s bedside, but she didn’t want to go far.

“Nothing we’d have to drive to,” Judy insisted. “I don’t want to have to deal with parking if something changes in your sister’s condition.”

Rachel was still under medical sedation, so it wasn’t like she would be waking up any time soon, but Quinn thought it was the wrong time to point that out to their mother.

The closest thing in walking distance was a Mexican restaurant. She sat across from her mother and they ordered Cadillac margaritas and picked at the complimentary chips and extra spicy salsa. They ordered food neither of them wanted and neither planned to eat.

“She’s so young,” her mother whispered. “She’s only twenty one. How could this happen?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Quinn said weakly.

Her mother’s lip wavered. “Her birthday is in six weeks.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Do you think we’ll get to celebrate her birthday?” Judy asked, her voice breaking.

Quinn’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know, but she desperately wanted to reassure her mother. “Of course, Mom. She’s small, but she’s scrappy.”

Judy gave her a small smile. “She is,” she agreed. She sniffled. “The doctor said it’s a miracle she doesn’t have worse physical injuries, so maybe it won’t be so hard for her when she recovers.”

“Right, Mom,” Quinn said softly.

“She’ll have to come home for a while,” Judy said. “So your father and I can take care of her.” She smiled wistfully “It’ll be nice to have your little sister home for a while. She never comes home.”

Quinn wiped at her eyes. “I know, Mom.”

She knew that part of the reason Rachel never came home had to do with her.

‘God please. I’ll give you anything you want. Just let her be okay.’

Her mother patted her hand. “Thank you for staying, Quinnie. But your father, sister and I are here now. You can go back to your life. I know you’re busy with school. We’ll stay with Rachel. I know your sister isn’t your favorite person. This doesn’t have to intrude on your life. We’re here now.”

Quinn blinked back tears. Was this how her family saw her? Ever since the accident, Aubrey, her father and now her mother had basically implied that she was shitty enough not to care about what happened to Rachel. But she _did_. How could she care about school when Rachel was this hurt? “I want to stay here, Mom.”

Her mother looked at her sadly. “Rachel reminds me so much of her father,” she said quietly. “Not your father, but Samuel,” she clarified.

“Rachel never talked about either of her dads,” Quinn said softly. “Not even when we were little.”

“She probably doesn’t remember either of them very much now,” Judy said. “She was very young when Sam and Paul died. She’d _just_ turned four.”

“I know,” Quinn said quietly.

They talked for a while, mainly about Rachel’s father, Samuel, who’d been Judy’s best friend since middle school and what a good man he’d been. She revealed how she’d made Samuel swear that if anything ever happened to her and her husband, he would take Aubrey and Quinn in, and while he’d never asked her to make the same promise with Rachel, she took one look at Rachel and knew Rachel was meant to be her daughter.

“I always thought she was the daughter I could have had with Samuel,” Judy confessed. “I just knew she was meant to be a part of our family.” She touched Quinn’s cheek. “You were so happy to have another sister, do you remember?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said softly. She wished she could correct her mother and let her know she hadn’t been happy to have another sister, she was happy to have _Rachel_ , but her mother would _never_ understand and this wasn’t the time to drop such a bomb anyway.

‘Please God,’ Quinn thought. ‘She’s my sister. Let her be okay and let me see her like a sister.’

\--

It took her nearly a week to remember to call Santana and Brittany. They were furious with her and she picked them up from the airport after they made the 45 minute plane ride down from Berkeley.

“You’re a _bitch_ , Fabray!” Santana bellowed the entire car ride to the hospital. “ _You_ might not give a shit if she lives or dies, but _we_ do and you should have called us!”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered. “I just…I wasn’t thinking. There was so much going on.”

“You mean you weren’t thinking about what she wanted-- as usual,” Santana raged. “I know you wanted her to be this friendless loser, but she’s _not_. Contrary to whatever you might think, you _are_ obliged to be good to her. She’s your _sister_ and you should have called us when she got hurt! We’re her friends! She’d want us here!”

“I’m sorry, San,” Quinn whispered. “I really am.”

“Don’t make us choose again between you and Rachel,” Santana said wearily. “Because this was _really_ shitty of you. I _know_ you don’t care about her and maybe that makes you perfect for this because _you’ll_ have no problem making the hard choice and letting her go. But it’s _hard_ for the rest of us.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “It’s hard for me, too.”

Santana scoffed softly. “Yeah, right.”

It was difficult to see herself through the eyes of others, to see what other people thought of her. No one seemed to get that it was hard for her, too. Everyone expected her to be the strong one, the one to handle everything so that everyone else could fall apart, but she couldn’t handle anything. All she wanted to do was sit by Rachel’s side and hold her hand, but no one was letting her near Rachel for very long. She’d visit with Rachel and she’d get chased away by her mother, father, sister or Santana and Brittany who wanted to take her seat next to Rachel’s bed.

“I actually want to be here,” one of them would invariably say. “Why don’t you go home?”

\--

Rachel was moved out of ICU and started breathing on her own, which was a good sign. But then she slipped into a coma and everyone lost a little bit of hope after that happened. Then she opened her eyes a few times, which was another sign of hope, but she wasn’t considered to be awake because she didn’t focus her eyes on anyone or anything. But it meant her chances of recovery went up and Quinn would take whatever hope, however frail, that she could get.

\--

And then one day when everyone was gone-- her parents were at their hotel taking a shower, Aubrey was outside on the phone with her husband and Santana and Brittany were getting something to eat in the cafeteria, Rachel’s eyes opened again.

Quinn wasn’t hopeful. Rachel opened her eyes periodically, but she’d yet to focus her eyes so she wasn’t considered out of her coma yet. But she stood up anyway and peered down at Rachel’s face, thinking she’d give up anything in the world-- God could just ask, and she would. She’d give up anything for Rachel to be okay-- and not just alive, because she was already alive, but healthy and whole again.

Rachel’s eyes focused on Quinn and then unfocused and then refocused again, but they were still bleary. “Em?”

The swell of hope she felt from hearing Rachel speak warred with the pain she felt of hearing Rachel call out someone else’s name. Quinn swallowed hard. “No,” she said. “It’s me. It’s Quinn.”

Rachel didn’t seem to understand. “Em?” she repeated.

“Rachel? Rachel, it’s Quinn.”

Rachel frowned, clearly confused and in distress. “Em?”

By the time Quinn came back with a doctor, Rachel’s eyes were closed again.

\--

She was in and out for another week. She recognized Santana and their father, but anyone blond and female-- their mother, Brittany, Quinn, Aubrey, a nurse or a doctor, she mistook for Emily. There was damage to her brain, but her prognosis was improving daily. It would definitely take time for her to recuperate and they could expect personality changes, memory loss, aphasia amongst other things, but eventually she could live a normal, healthy life again.

When she was finally awake, Rachel just seemed so confused and lost and didn’t seem to understand anything, couldn’t seem to process what was told to her.

But Quinn knew that Rachel was herself thirty one days after the accident when Rachel was finally well enough to be told what happened to Emily and actually understand it.

“Oh,” Rachel whispered when their mother finally broke the news. She’d been told more than once, but this was the first time she seemed capable of understanding. Her eyes welled with tears and for just an _instant_ the anguish was written plainly and painfully on her face. But then her face became blank.

“Rachel, baby,” their mother said quietly. “Baby, do you understand what that means?”

“It means I won’t be able to see her anymore,” Rachel said softly. “I understand, Mom.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” their mother said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay Mom. Can I…Can I be…” Rachel frowned in frustration as she groped for the word she was looking for-- the aphasia was normal, apparently, but Rachel’s obvious frustration and occasional consternation were heartbreaking. “Alone?”

Rachel claiming to be okay when she said it like that was a sure indicator that she wasn’t-- but it was also a sure indicator that she was definitely Rachel again.

Their mother hesitated, but then gave in. “Of course, baby. But we’ll be here when you need us. We’ll just be outside.”

“Okay.”

\--

Rachel’s return to Lima to recuperate at home coincided with Quinn’s winter break, so she followed her family back home.

Rachel spent the first few days alternately sleeping and holing up in her old room, softly requesting to be alone and refusing the plates of food their mother brought up to her.

“I’m going to bring her downstairs,” Judy said, her eyes flickering to the stairwell. “She hasn’t left her room in five days. And she hasn’t eaten anything in a while. If she doesn’t eat something, she could hurt herself and--”

“Leave her,” Russell said quietly. “This is who she is. She’ll come to us if she needs us.”

But Quinn thought their dad just didn’t get it. She didn’t think Rachel _knew_ how to go to someone if she needed them or how to ask for help.

\--

It was late one night when Quinn heard her bedroom door creak open. She turned and lifted her head.

Rachel was standing in the doorway.

“Rachel? Are you okay?”

Rachel didn’t say anything but she came into the room, closed the door and crawled into bed next to Quinn.

“Rachel? Is something hurting?” Quinn asked, panicking a little.

Rachel didn’t respond but cuddled closer to Quinn. Quinn put her arms around Rachel, but she still felt uneasy.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“Please stop talking,” Rachel whispered.

Quinn swallowed hard. “Okay.”

They laid there in silence for a while and Quinn was almost asleep when she felt Rachel’s lips brush against hers.

“I missed you so much, Em,” Rachel whispered when she broke the kiss.

Quinn’s eyes filled with tears but she didn’t stop Rachel when the brunette’s hand reached under her shirt to cup one of her breasts. Somehow they undressed and Quinn’s mind screamed at her that this was wrong-- Rachel was her _sister_ , Rachel was grieving, Rachel was murmuring someone else’s name, Rachel was _brain damaged_ , but Quinn didn’t stop. She didn’t stop as Rachel’s hands and mouth roamed over her body.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Rachel whispered. “Forgive me, Em.”

She should have stopped it, but the feel of Rachel’s mouth between her thighs felt too good, too right and Quinn quietly cried out Rachel’s name as she came.

“Rachel,” Quinn said, the word coming out strangled. “Oh God. I love you, I love you so much.” She had to say it, even if she only had this one opportunity, she had to say it. Rachel didn’t respond to the declaration-- she didn’t even seem to have heard.

She needed to touch Rachel and so her hands slowly stroked soft skin. She cupped Rachel’s breasts, reveling in how soft they were and how Rachel’s nipples hardened under her touch. Rachel may have been thinking of someone else, but it was she who was making Rachel’s body respond, making Rachel cry out, even if was a name other than her own. Rachel came, hoarsely whispering another woman’s name. But she stayed in bed with Quinn that night and then she fell asleep.

Quinn laid awake with Rachel sleeping in her arms. Eventually, she fell asleep, too.

When she awoke the next morning, Rachel was already gone.

She went downstairs to look for Rachel, but she was at a doctor’s appointment with their mother. Their father was in his home office, reviewing some paper work.

“Your sister had a fever this morning and was vomiting,” he said. “So your mother took her in.”

Rachel came home later that day and went to bed. But she was back in Quinn’s bed that night.

It became a pattern. Rachel actively avoided her during the day, which was fairly easy to do because she had various appointments with doctors, but at night, Rachel crawled into bed beside Quinn, and each night was a repeat of the first-- Quinn wanting desperately to put a stop to it, but incapable of doing so, and Rachel crying, whispering words of apology and pleading fealty to someone else.

“Oh God,” Rachel cried. “Em, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”  
\--

It was the day after Christmas-- the anniversary of her fathers’ death and Rachel was depressed and sullen through the entire day. She claimed she had a headache and stayed in her room and didn’t respond to anyone. But that night Rachel crept into Quinn’s room, in tears, and Quinn held her as she cried. Rachel covered her mouth with her hands to muffle her cries as she sobbed, just as she’d done as a child. Since the accident, Rachel was more impatient and had a lower tolerance for frustration, but it was clear some things would never change.  
  
“I can’t remember them,” Rachel whispered, pressing her forehead into Quinn’s shoulder. “I just remember how they died. But I don’t remember them at all.”

Quinn felt helpless. “I’m sorry, Rachel,” she whispered.

“Did I _ever_ remember them?” Rachel asked. “I can’t remember if I ever remembered them. Is it because my head’s screwed up now? Did I forget them because of the accident? I can’t remember if I ever remembered them!” Rachel sounded hysterical and panicked.

Quinn didn’t know. She genuinely didn’t know. “I don’t know, Rach.”

“What did I tell you?” Rachel pressed. “I must have told you. I used to tell you everything. What did I tell you about them?”

Quinn wanted to cry. She _wished_ she could tell Rachel about her fathers, but the truth was, Rachel never talked about them. “You never told me, Rachel,” she said quietly. “You never talked about them. I wish you had so I could tell you about them, but you never told me. I don’t know if you ever remembered them.”

Rachel released a choked sob and then she pushed herself away from Quinn. “You’re lying,” she said, her voice trembling. “I told you _everything_. I remember _that_.”

“You… you didn’t tell me about them.”

“You’re lying,” Rachel repeated. “You’re keeping them from me. You…” Rachel’s voice broke. “You’re the only one I would have told about them but you hate me and now you’re keeping them from me.”

Quinn reached for her and pulled Rachel close. “No!” she said vehemently “I swear, you never told me about them. I swear, I’d tell you everything if you did but you--”

Rachel struggled and pushed Quinn away. “I would never do this to you,” she whispered. “Even if I hated you, I’d never do this to you. I’d never keep something from you that you wanted to know!”

Quinn reached for her again, but Rachel stumbled out of the bed and fled the room through their adjoining bathroom. Quinn tried to follow after her but Rachel locked the door against her. When Quinn tried to enter Rachel’s room through the bedroom door, she found that it was locked, too.

She tried to speak to Rachel the next day, but Rachel refused to talk to her.

But Rachel was back in her bed that night.

“Everything hurts,” Rachel moaned. “Everything always hurts.”

Quinn kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, her chin. “Tell me what I can do,” she pleaded. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel cried. “Everything just hurts. It never stops.”

“What can I do?” Quinn asked helplessly before she kissed a trail across Rachel’s neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. “What can I do?” she whispered. “Tell me what I can do,” she pleaded as gently spread Rachel’s legs apart. She brought her lips between Rachel’s thighs-- the taste of her was familiar to Quinn now. She’d believed once it would never happen, and then when it finally did happen, she thought it was an isolated incident, that she’d never have that again. And now it’d happened again and again, and _still_ it wasn’t the way Quinn wanted. It just…it wasn’t _fair_.

“Oh God, Oh God, Emily. Em, don’t stop.”

Every time Rachel cried out _her_ name, it was like some part of her just kept shriveling. But it didn’t diminish her love, her want, her need for Rachel.

“I love you, Rachel,” Quinn whispered after they were done and Rachel was curled away from her, sobbing softly.

It took a few minutes, but Rachel sat up and redressed. “You’re just a fuck, Quinn. And you’re a liar.”

It was the first time Rachel had ever called her by name in all this. It hurt more than Quinn could ever say.

\--

It happened again and again-- Rachel pointedly ignoring her during the day but crawling into Quinn’s bed, in tears, seeking comfort. Rachel had only said it once-- ‘you’re just a fuck, Quinn,’ but Quinn had never forgotten it. It burrowed beneath her skin and kept digging further and further in every time they were together.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to talk to Rachel.

She approached Rachel in the bathroom while Rachel was washing her hands.

“I…I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Rachel said.

“I wanted to talk to you about what’s been going on.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And what’s been going on?”

“I…” Quinn faltered. “Please don’t make me say it, Rachel.”

Rachel softened. “Okay. What’s up, Quinn?”

Quinn’s voice broke. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

She wanted to, of course. She’d wanted Rachel for so long, she couldn’t remember ever wanting anything else. Her need and desire for Rachel had outrun and outstripped every other desire. She couldn’t remember what she wanted for birthday when she was five or for Christmas when she was eight, but she remembered wanting Rachel. She remembered wanting the spot on the drill team in sixth grade, the Cheerios spot in the ninth grade, wanting desperately _not_ to be pregnant in the tenth grade and wanting to get into _any_ school outside the state of Ohio in the twelfth grade, but all of that felt so distant and inconsequential, whereas she _still_ wanted Rachel with the same desperation she felt when she was four and wanted Rachel to come home. The only thing she wanted more desperately than Rachel was for the ability to see Rachel as a sister. But no matter _how_ much she prayed, how much she begged God, how much she tried to replace Rachel with other diminutive brunettes or how much she tried to sublimate her desire by hurling insults and Slushies, she had _never_ wanted anything as desperately as she wanted Rachel.

She _wanted_ Rachel in her bed every night, even as she pleaded with God to take that desire away from her. She wanted Rachel too much and it _hurt_ too much to have Rachel like this. She didn’t think she could go on. She could go back to LA, go back to school as soon as her Winter Break was over, but she wasn’t sure she could go on without finding out what it was Rachel wanted from her, how all this could have happened.

Rachel was calm. “All right,” she said, accepting it. “I’ll concede it has been extremely disconcerting for me as well. We’re not blood related, but we did grow up as siblings. I’m sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable position. It won’t happen again. And I appreciate that you put aside your long-held disdain for me to…assist me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Quinn said quietly. “I think I’ve been in love with you since we were four. I can’t do this anymore because it’s too hard for me. I want more. I’m in love with you.”

She couldn’t believe she actually said it.

Rachel stared at her, eyes wide. She was so stunned, her _jaw_ was actually open.

“Say something,” Quinn said weakly when an eternity seemed to have passed without Rachel saying anything.

“That’s it,” Rachel said, finally. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” Quinn whispered.

“I’m done with you,” Rachel said softly, her voice calm. “I don’t want you in my life anymore. I know we’re kind of stuck together because of our family, so I know you won’t actually be out of my life for good. But you and I, we’re done.”

“Rachel, what are you--”

“What did you think?” Rachel asked, agitated. “I get into an accident and I get a little brain injury and now I’m retarded? You think I’ve forgotten everything? You think because I can’t remember my real fathers that I can’t remember anything else? You’ve been making my life miserable since we were in middle school and I _never_ said anything about it. You think I forgot about all that just because you’ve been _decent_ to me lately? Well, I _didn’t_ forget.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said quietly. “Rach, please calm down. You.. .you aren’t supposed to get this upset. It could hurt your recovery and--”

“Like you care,” Rachel scoffed. “You don’t care about me. You’ve been doing everything in your power to make me miserable since middle school and I never gave you grief because I know it must have been hard to share your house and your family with me, so I understood. I never said _anything_ because I hoped that eventually we could just get past it and be close again. But you’re just screwing with me now to screw with me. We’re adults now I don’t deserve this from you. I’m just done. My girlfriend just died and you’re still just _fucking_ with me. This? This, Quinn, is too much. There is _always_ something you can do to make someone stop loving you and you just crossed that line with me”

“Rachel, no, you don’t understand I--”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Your actions have made how you feel really clear. I love you, but I don’t _like_ you. I love you and I wish you the best, I really do. But I don’t want you in my life anymore. You’ve been _toxic_ and waiting around for you to like me again has just been… _punishing_. I’m sick of how you treat me. I’m sick of being in love with someone who’s going to pretend to be in love with me just to screw with me more. I don’t want you in my life anymore”

“I’m not…I’m not screwing with you.”

Rachel sneered at her. “Yeah. So we fucked a few times and now you’re in love with me? Really?”

“I _do_ love you,” Quinn whispered. “I’ve loved you for _years_ and--”

“Really?” Rachel asked. “So Man Hands, Tranny and RuPaul were terms of endearment? I didn’t realize. So Slushieing me twice a day since middle school is your way of showing your love for me? Telling people I have a penis so they’d…” Rachel’s voice faltered and she had to break off for a moment. “So they’d invade my personal space to check for one. Sending people to…” her voice caught again. “That was your way of proving how much you loved me?”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said, her voice breaking, pleading with Rachel for forgiveness. “I--”

“Just…be quiet,” Rachel said wearily. “We don’t have to have any kind of relationship, you know. We don’t have to be on speaking terms. We don’t even live in the same state anymore.”

“Rachel, just listen--”

“ _No_. For once, _you_ listen. I don’t want you in my life. At all. As much as I love you, I _hate_ you. I don’t _like_ anything about you. I hate the way you treat me, I hate the way you treat people in general. You’re _hateful_ and I used to think if I waited long enough, you’d be the way you were when we were kids because you were _so_ good back then. I thought you’d just grow out of it. But this is just who you are! You’re an adult, and this is just who you are and I finally accepted the fact that even the best kids can grow up to be assholes and you’re just one of them.”

“Rachel,” Quinn begged. “Please just give me a chance to exp--”

“Don’t even say my name,” Rachel said softly. “You know you don’t even think of me as Rachel. You know you think of me as RuPaul or Tranny or Man Hands… Just…forget about me. You’ve made it clear I’m not your sister, you made it clear I’m not your friend. I got your message loud and clear a long time ago-- I’m nothing to you and now you’re nothing to me. You could have just…you could have just said you didn’t want to do it anymore. I would have understood. But you just had to _hurt_ me a little more, didn’t you? You have to try to screw with me and try to trick me and _lie_ to me and say you love me. You…” Rachel screwed her eyes shut for a moment. “You always just have to try to hurt me a little extra, don’t you?”

“Rachel--”

Rachel shook her head. “Stop talking. For once in your life, you’re not going to get what you want from me. I’m _not_ listening to you. I want you out of my life.”

“Rachel, please. Just listen to me. I can explain--”

“Quinn,” Rachel said calmly. “I look at you and I see nothing and feel nothing. I mean it. Stop talking to me.”

Rachel left the bathroom.

By the evening, Rachel was on a plane back to New York over their parents’ vehement protests.

Quinn wasn’t sure to be upset or relieved, so she was a little bit of both. She’d been okay without Rachel in her life for the past few years. She always felt Rachel’s absence, but it was an ache that she’d long been familiar with, so she could cope with it. Rachel was her sister, even if she was adopted, and it just wasn’t appropriate to feel that way about a sibling the way Quinn felt for Rachel, so over the years it was just easier to deal with the absence of Rachel than her inappropriate feelings for Rachel.

She’d always felt the need to fix things with Rachel, but she never acted on it. But as cliché as it was, Rachel nearly dying demonstrated life’s fragility, particularly _Rachel’s_ fragility. She’d seen Rachel tough out every difficult situation in her life with a big smile and without much complaint, pretending like nothing was wrong in her life. A part of her used to resent Rachel for just _taking_ all the abuse so silently-- it made her become increasingly more extreme and hurtful to see how far she could push Rachel. But at the same time, Rachel always seemed so resilient that Quinn had come to view her as some kind of super woman-- but she wasn’t super woman. She was just a woman and she was a woman who’d nearly died and Quinn realized how much she wanted a piece of Rachel’s life, even if it would be hard for her.

But she’d pushed Rachel out of her life years ago, and Rachel had pushed back.


	8. Maneuvering Landmines

Title:Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 5640

Chapter 8

  
Rachel threw herself into her career and spent an entire year taking jobs that would keep her travelling and away from anything resembling home-- she filmed a movie in Tokyo, starred in the London production of _RENT_ , taped a few guest spots for shows that taped in Washington D.C. and had a recurring guest role on a show that took place in Los Angeles, but filmed in Vancouver.

Their mother fretted and worried, and bemoaned that Rachel was pushing herself too hard, too quickly, and that the punishing schedule was going to impede her recovery. But no one could ever stop Rachel from doing what she wanted once she was set on it. It probably was too much too soon, but Quinn heard from their parents that Rachel called them once a week to let them know how she was doing and apparently she was doing okay.

She followed Rachel’s career as it seemed to have an overnight meteoritic rise, but Quinn knew that Rachel had worked hard to achieve her success.

And then one day, eighteen months after Rachel walked away from her, she received an email from Rachel.

It read simply:

_I was too harsh with you. I said terrible things I didn’t mean. I was grieving and I took it all out on you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that._

It gave her hope, however fragile and tenuous. She froze for a brief moment, teetering between hope and despair because she didn’t know how they’d _ever_ be okay. So much had happened between them, Quinn didn’t know how they’d ever have a relationship even remotely resembling a normal sororal relationship. Truth be told, even after so many years and countless prayers on endless sleepless nights, Quinn still didn’t want a sororal relationship with Rachel, she just wished she wanted one.

Before she even really knew what she was doing, she began frantically typing her reply-- her fingers slamming indelicately and quickly over the keys as she poured out her heart in response. She was sure it must have gone on for pages and pages as she apologized for every insult and hurtful thing she could remember uttering, and for ones she’d probably forgotten about that Rachel couldn’t. She apologized for everything she ever did, and there were so many things.-- there was a _litany_ of things she was sorry for and she begged for forgiveness, but she couldn’t bring herself to put the explanation for all her shittiness in writing. It would make it too real. It would make Rachel know and though she’d already blurted that she was in love with Rachel, had been for years, it was possible Rachel had repressed it and Quinn didn’t want to bring it up again.

She was sure it was an incoherent jumble. But she hit send before she could lose her nerve.

She checked her email persistently over the next few days and weeks. But nothing ever came of it, and her hopes were dashed. She didn’t dare hope that Rachel would return her feelings, even if Rachel’s words haunted her-- _I’m tired of being in love_ , but she hoped for some kind of forgiveness.

But then Rachel did respond. It didn’t acknowledge anything Quinn wrote to her, but at least it was a response.

_I don’t want us to be like this. We should at least be civil to one another_

They started up an email correspondence after that. Rachel continued to take jobs and roles that required her to be anywhere other than home, but she returned to her love of performing on stage in front of a live audience. She performed as Amneris in the London production of _Aida_ , Elphaba in France, Sheila in _Hair_ in Amsterdam, Fanny Brice in Barcelona before accepting another movie role in some indie dramedy filmed in Prague that met with critical success though there were a few less glowing reviews from other critics known for their cattiness who commented that the sharpest thing in the movie was Rachel’s visible vertebrae.

Any and every comment that was even remotely critical or held a hint of negativity made Quinn furious and there were so many days when her mother or her sister called demanding to know if Quinn had seen what such and such person said about Rachel and what Quinn intended to do about it, as though Quinn held that kind of power. Her mother and Aubrey seemed to think that just because Quinn lived in LA she had some sort of pipeline to the media, but she didn’t. She wished she did though.

Quinn sent pages-long emails detailing everything-- final exams, her graduation from the MBA program, job interviews, the thrill of her first legitimate job offer. She tried to give Rachel as detailed a picture of her life as possible so that Rachel could understand, could _see_ that she wasn’t the terrible person that Rachel believed her to be. Rachel’s emails were sporadic, often brisk and tended to focus on odd details that seemed germane to nothing rather than giving any true glimpse into her life.

An email from Amsterdam:

_I’ve been getting fat here. I’ve become addicted to eating stroopwafles with coffee. Look it up. They have a version of it at Starbucks. Eat one with coffee and think of me. P.S. Call Brit and let her know I think of her all the time here. Everyone here reminds me of her. -R_

A few months later, an email from Barcelona:

_Today I met this tourist from Sweden who is ethnically Japanese and looks like an Asian version of mom. So I’m in Barcelona and I meet a woman from Mom’s motherland and she happens to look like a Japanese version of Mom. My head hurts because of this._

Another month after that, an email from Prague.

_I just woke up in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and all I can think about is why there are different words for animal sounds in different languages. Why does a rooster say quiquiriquí in Spanish and cockle-doodle-do in English, but ko-ke-kok-ko-o in Japanese? It seems there ought to be some uniformity across languages at least with respect to animal sounds due to the fact that as far as I can tell, a dog barking sounds exactly the same in every country_

A few minutes later another email:

_I realize that my preoccupations are somewhat ridiculous, but please bear with me_

But finally, after two years after that first email to Quinn, Rachel came home. She was going to reprise her role as Elphaba on Broadway and Quinn was excited for her because even via email, Rachel sounded excited.

Her life started to revolve around work and these email exchanges with Rachel. Her life became about two contradictory impulses: the first to bring Rachel close again and to make Rachel hers, the second to prove to herself that she didn’t need Rachel like that. Consequently, she dated chronically and terribly--she was a serial dater since college and simply couldn’t sustain anything more than a few months. But once she started e-mailing Rachel, it got worse. Women she dated inevitably became exasperated, angry and fed up with her chronic need to look at her phone to check her email. Accusations of infidelity were rampant, but she couldn’t stop searching for someone who could possibly take Rachel’s place. She couldn’t give up the frail hope that she’d find someone to love-- someone who wasn’t her sister. But she couldn’t give up Rachel either.

She followed Rachel’s life obsessively, burning with jealousy and regret every time she found a picture of Rachel with someone holding hands with them or kissing them or just being around them. She knew their mother collected anything about Rachel, at least, the positive stuff. Every interview, every blurb, every rave review, their mother saved it. Quinn had to admit, she did the same thing.

Three months into Rachel’s run, when she’d performed ten shows a week on Broadway, and everyone they knew in common had already seen it and practically cried about how good Rachel was, Quinn sent the shortest email she’d ever sent Rachel.

_Can I come to your show? I’d like to see you. I’m not asking for a free ticket-- I’ll pay for my own. I just want to see you again._

Rachel’s response was curt.

_No_.

Incidentally, though it was the shortest email Quinn ever sent, it was not the shortest response Rachel ever sent. The shortest email Rachel ever sent to Quinn was simply:

_K_

This was in response to yet another long, heartfelt email in which Quinn again apologized for everything.

Quinn contemplated just buying a ticket and seeing the show anyway-- Rachel would never be the wiser and she desperately wanted to see and hear Rachel again, even if it was from afar. But she remembered Rachel’s words-- the accusation, “you don’t care what I want” and so she decided to respect Rachel’s wishes.

Rachel was nominated for a Tony and Drama Desk Award for Elphaba and won both. Quinn watched from home as Rachel’s win was announced. Rachel was sitting behind the Glinda to her Elphaba and next to her Fiyero, who was her date. Rachel exchanged an open-mouth kiss with Fiyero and a closed-mouth kiss with Glinda and then practically skipped toward the stage. She tripped ever so slightly and when she got to the stage, she was blushing darkly but grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Yay,” she cheered softly, waving her fists in the air. “I didn’t break my neck getting up here!”

The crowd laughed gently and was respectfully quiet as Rachel gushed through her acceptance speech, occasionally stammering a little bit when she got too excited. Each time she stumbled over a word, Rachel seemed to blush a little harder and she ducked her head shyly. She made it though most of her speech and then beamed into the camera.

“And all my family and friends can expect a mass text message once I get back to my seat!” Rachel exclaimed, “although I think it will only read ‘haha! I won a Tony!’”

Quinn waited all night, and all of the next day, but she never got a text from Rachel.

Another Christmas arrived and it was yet another Christmas without Rachel, but everyone understood she couldn’t get away long enough for a visit. Quinn flew in from LA to be with her family and she was sitting next to the fireplace when Rachel called to wish everyone a happy holiday.

Quinn watched as Rachel spoke to their father, their mother, their sister and their brother-in-law. Aubrey and Rick had two children in two years-- both girls, and while Quinn adored her nieces, she really didn’t see the point in having a two and one year old ‘talk’ to Rachel over the phone-- Alice and Lisa were barely verbal. She waited for her turn, but when she took the phone, the dial tone greeted her.

She was overwhelmed with hurt and so she used her phone to send Rachel an email.

_Did you have to hang up? I just wanted to hear your voice_

The response was immediate.

_Yours still hurts me_

They didn’t email again for another couple weeks. Quinn broke the silence.

_Happy New Year. I hope everything is okay_

It was a week after the New Year had already started, but she had yet to wish Rachel a Happy New Year, so she thought she should write it.

_Happy New Year to you, too. Everything’s fine. I hope it’s the same for you_.

Quinn sent a few more emails, but there was no response.

Then one day, Quinn trudged home after another day at work. She checked her email and was surprised to see one from Rachel. Beyond that initial email, Rachel never emailed her first-- she always responded to Quinn, though her responses were usually anywhere from days to weeks after the fact.

_I’m going to be in LA tomorrow. I’m auditioning for a pilot. Do you want to meet?_

Quinn’s response was immediate.

_Yes_.

God, please. Yes.

\--

They were supposed to meet for coffee at 6pm, but when Rachel didn’t show up by 6:05pm, Quinn started to worry Rachel wasn’t coming at all because Rachel was chronically early. But she sat down anyway and by 6:11pm, Rachel was sitting across from her, with a drink in her hand.

It was the first time she laid eyes on Rachel in person in years.

“Hello,” Rachel greeted politely.

“Hi,” Quinn whispered.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rachel said. “I just don’t understand the roads here.”

“It can take some getting used to,” Quinn agreed with a smile.

\--

Rachel was placidly polite, but quiet. She answered all of Quinn’s questions, asked a few of her own as Quinn babbled about things Rachel likely had no interest in. Rachel was vague about her audition, only stating that she thought it went well, but she furnished no further detail.  
She’d seen Rachel in interviews and there’d been video footage of Rachel captured in candid moments with friends on some gossip website, and Quinn hated Rachel was so different with her-- Rachel displayed none of the sweet, earnest giddiness that she was known for. She knew some of it was an act-- Rachel always put on her bravest face in public, but she’d always been sweet-natured and now she just seemed so blank.

It took a few times for Quinn to notice, but every time Quinn reached for her drink, Rachel winced imperceptibly and leaned back. It stung that after so many years out of high school, Rachel would believe Quinn would throw a drink on her again. But she couldn’t fault Rachel, she only had herself to blame for that. It still felt terrible though.

They’d only talked for about twenty minutes when they’d finished their drinks. Quinn tried to match her pace with Rachel, so they finish them around the same time. Rachel stood up, the empty cup in her hand.

“Well,” Rachel said. “It was nice seeing you.”

Quinn stood up as well. “Yeah,” she said softly. She swallowed with difficulty. It just felt over too soon and Rachel seemed so eager to get away from her. “It was really good seeing you, Rachel.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

She moved to leave, but Quinn reached for her. Rachel pulled back before Quinn could make actual physical contact.

“What is it?” Rachel asked.

“Am I really going to see you later?” Quinn asked quietly.

“Well,” Rachel said. “Not later tonight, but later as in some indefinite time in the near future, so yes.”

Quinn gave her a tiny smile. “Do you really have to go right now? I’ll buy you dinner.”

Rachel shook her head. “No. Thank you, maybe some other time.”

“Okay.”

\--

Rachel went back to New York a couple days later, but she was back the month after that when she got the role to start filming the pilot.

Their mother sounded relieved.

“Watch over your little sister, won’t you?”

Their father was blunter.

“Do _not_ let your sister date another degenerate. I’m counting on you to watch out for her. Your sister’s always had terrible judgment when it comes to people.”

If her father only knew that the degenerate he needed to worry about was her.

‘Please God,’ Quinn prayed. ‘She’s my sister.’

She knew she’d confessed nearly everything to Rachel, but it seemed like either Rachel was ignoring it or repressing it. It was almost a relief Rachel didn’t acknowledge it. She just wanted to have a normal relationship with Rachel.

They were sisters and she just wanted the sort of relationship with Rachel that she’d had with Aubrey.

Why had that been so elusive her entire life?  
\--

They didn’t see each other for a while. Rachel’s pilot was picked up and so she was busy filming and Quinn was busy with work, but Quinn thought she’d take a chance and sent Rachel an email.

_Do you want to meet for dinner soon?_

Quinn thought it would be so much simpler if she could just text or call Rachel, but Rachel had spent so many years without a stable address or phone number, that Quinn didn’t have it. She knew she could always ask her family or Brittany or Santana or even Finn or Puck, but she didn’t want to explain why she didn’t have Rachel’s phone number and she didn’t want to ask Rachel because she was afraid of the possibility of Rachel telling her ‘no.’

It took a few days, but she got a response:

_Okay_

They set up the details over email and met up a few days later.

Rachel was seven minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized, slipping into her chair. “I still really haven’t figured this place out.” She looked tired and too thin, but she also looked happy, like things were going well.

“It can be confusing,” Quinn agreed.

“I got lost because there are too many street names with Beverly in it,” Rachel said with obvious frustration.

Quinn laughed. “Yeah, that happened to me, too.” She paused. “I could…you know, show you around LA if you want. I’m pretty used to it now.”

Rachel was quiet for a moment as she pondered the offer. “Okay,” she finally softly, eyes cast down at the table.

Quinn beamed, relieved. “Great.”

She was so happy Rachel accepted her offer to show her around LA that it hurt a little less Rachel continued to imperceptibly wince and lean back every time Quinn reached for her glass.

\--

They fought over the check, each of them insisting she would pay for the whole meal. Finally they decided on just splitting it.

\--

It took three more dinners, one tour of Hollywood/Los Feliz, one tour of Santa Monica and one tour of the Valley for them to exchange phone numbers.

After that was a tour of Westwood/Beverly Hills/West Hollywood followed by a tour of the beaches. Long Beach, where Rachel had her accident, was studiously avoided.

Rachel bought her dinner (over Quinn’s protests) once the last of the tours was over. It felt like a goodbye and Quinn was thoroughly depressed by the end of it. Rachel had politely declined offers to hang out outside of those little tours and the meals they shared in their aftermaths. She’d gently declined all invitations to come up to Quinn’s apartment.

It felt like a goodbye. There really wouldn’t be any further reason to hang out and Rachel seemed uninterested and dispassionate about the prospect of hanging out more.

“Do you want to come up?” Quinn asked, for the nth time as she pulled into her parking garage. She stopped behind Rachel’s car which was parked in the guest space. She was fairly certain the answer would be ‘no, thank you,’ but she asked anyway.

Rachel was quiet as she stared at her hands in her lap. She hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” she finally agreed quietly.

Quinn took a soft breath because she didn’t want to dare God by beginning to hope. “Okay,” she said and she drove forward to park in her assigned space. “It’s kind of a mess right now,” she said apologetically as they got out. “I’ve been busy with work. I kind of let it get away from me.”

“It can’t be any worse than mine. I still have boxes everywhere.”

Rachel followed Quinn up to her apartment.

“See? It’s not any worse than mine,” Rachel said.

They made idle small talk for a while and then Rachel kissed her and Quinn gave into temptation.

She wanted to have the ability to gently pull away, but she didn’t have that kind of fortitude. She loved Rachel, but she desperately wanted to love Rachel the right way and she hated herself for wanting _this_ so much-- it just felt so natural and unnatural at the same time.

\--

They fell into a pattern. They never talked about it, just slipped into the unspoken agreement. It always took place at Quinn’s apartment and Rachel always fled afterward.

Despite the fact that they did some of the most intimate things two people could do with one another, Rachel never stayed the night and Quinn had no idea what was going on in Rachel’s life. Rachel had once told her ‘you’re just a fuck, Quinn,’ and though it was long ago and muttered in the aftermath of losing Emily and Rachel never repeated it again, Quinn felt that it was true. For Rachel, she truly was just a fuck.

And then one night, a few months into their arrangement, Quinn expected Rachel to leave like she did every other night, but she stayed.

She didn’t stay _every_ time, but she started to stay.

\--

A few months after Rachel started staying the night, Quinn awoke to soft whimpers and Rachel’s quiet pleas for her fathers. Quinn swallowed hard and thought back to all those nights when they were little when they shared a room. Even though it’d been years since she was in this position, her response was automated.

“Rachel,” she said quietly, gently shaking Rachel awake. “Rachel, wake up,” she said softly.

Rachel woke up with a quiet cry and just like when Rachel was little, she curled away from Quinn and put both hands over her mouth to muffle her cries until she could calm down.

Quinn reached out and gently turned Rachel around, pulled her close and kissed her on the nose, just like she did for Rachel when they were kids. She hadn’t meant to mirror something she did when they were little-- it was just instinct and habit, even if it was so long since the last time she’d done it. She felt Rachel recoil and Rachel pushed Quinn away.

“Get away from me, don’t _touch_ me,” Rachel whispered harshly, as she scrambled out of the bed.

“Rach--” She reached for her again.

“Don’t touch me!”

Rachel didn’t even bother changing into something more appropriate-- she grabbed her purse and fled Quinn’s bedroom in her tanktop and shorts.

Quinn was too shocked to move for a few moments, but when she finally had the wits to run after Rachel, Rachel was already out of the apartment-- the brunette hadn’t even stopped to put on her shoes. By the time Quinn was in the parking garage, the automated door was opening and it’d barely become wide enough to allow for Rachel’s exit when Rachel accelerated and peeled out.

Quinn ran after her anyway and she watched, forlorn, as Rachel drove away. Quinn ran back to her apartment and called Rachel, but it went to voicemail.

She didn’t know _exactly_ what she did wrong, but she had her suspicions.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I know I ruined everything. Just… please call me back. Please.”

Rachel did call back a few days later.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Rachel admitted softly. “I love you, but I really don’t like you. I’ve been trying, but I just…I don’t think I’ll ever like you again.”

Quinn swallowed audibly, releasing a soft gasp. Her eyes pooled with tears and were overrun. “Well,” she said softly. “Thank you for trying.”

“I didn’t say I wanted us to stop.”

\--

And so they went on that way, and what they had was an almost painful mockery of the love and bond they shared when they were little. They could share the same bed, but Rachel wouldn’t allow it to go any further or deeper than that.

If they were in a better place together, Quinn could almost overlook the fact that what they were doing wasn’t normal. If their relationship could be described as being healthy or if there was more to it than just sex, then it would be a little easier to accept that their conduct was a little (a lot) outside the norm.

But it was just sex. Rachel was generally sweet and gentle with her, unspeakably and breathtakingly tender. But there were times when Rachel was rough, almost painful.

“Just fuck me,” Rachel whispered roughly. “You know I’m just a fuck for you so just fuck me.”

“You’re not,” Quinn said pleadingly. “You’re not. Please let me…”

“Just fuck me. I’m just a fuck. Say it.”

“I--”

Rachel’s hand slipped between Quinn’s thighs. Her hand was as rough and insistent as Rachel’s voice. “Tell me I’m just a fuck,” she demanded. “Say it. Tell me I’m nothing. Say it. Say it,” she hissed.”You’re thinking it and I know it, so say it! Say it!”

Quinn swallowed hard as tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re just a fuck,” she whispered reluctantly, “you’re nothing.”

She just wanted Rachel to be gentle and sweet with her again.

Rachel’s hand became gentle again and she pressed a kiss against Quinn’s neck. Quinn could feel Rachel smile against her skin.

“See?” Rachel cooed gently. “Was that so hard? Was it so difficult for you to be honest?” She gently kissed Quinn’s eyelids. “Don’t cry, baby,” she whispered softly, holding Quinn tightly. “You were only being honest. Just be honest with me, sweetheart.”

It made Quinn cry even harder.

It happened that way a few times-- Rachel rough and insistent, withholding, making Quinn utter such ugly things toward her-- “you’re pathetic,” “you’re nothing,” “you’re ugly,” “you’re a pervert,” “you should be dead,” if Quinn wanted release. And always, Quinn would say them, sobbing afterward and always, Rachel became gentle and sweet again, holding Quinn and murmuring that it was okay, that Quinn was only saying what she actually thought.

\--

The nightmares weren’t consistent or anything, sometimes she’d wake up every night they were together in a week to Rachel crying out in her sleep, and sometimes, weeks would go by without one. But every time Rachel had one, she could be counted on to flee. Some nights she cried out for her fathers and other nights she cried out for Emily. Some nights she just cried.

And Quinn couldn’t do anything about it.

\--

The majority of their nights together were fueled by at least a modest amount of alcohol, but some nights involved more than others. It was on one of these nights that Quinn woke up to Rachel’s quiet crying as Rachel insistently shook her awake. They’d consumed quite a lot of alcohol and they’d passed out more than they’d fallen asleep, so when Quinn woke up, she still felt a little drunk.

“Tell me the truth,” Rachel cried. “I never told you about my fathers? I don’t remember them! I don’t remember them at all except for that day! _Please_ don’t keep them from me! Tell me everything I told you about them! _Please_. I’ll get on my knees and beg you if that’s what you want. I’ll do anything you want me to! Just please don’t keep them from me anymore!”

Quinn swallowed with difficulty. This was the second time Rachel asked her about her fathers and it shattered her that she couldn’t give Rachel what she needed. It was shattering Rachel actually believed that she would keep her fathers from her. “I’m not keeping them from you,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t know anything because you never talked about it with me. You never told me anything about them. I’d ask, but you wouldn’t answer.”

Quinn felt Rachel tremble.

“But I used to tell you everything,” Rachel whimpered, anguished. “I know _that_.”

“You didn’t tell me _everything_. I…I mean, do you need me to tell you what your favorite movie was when you were four? It was--”

“I know what it was,” Rachel interrupted quietly. She laughed bitterly. “Do you know what the best part of having just a _little_ memory loss is, Quinn? You aren’t supposed to know what you don’t remember. But of course, I can’t ever be that lucky so I don’t _know_ if I ever remembered my dads, I just know that I only have _one_ memory of them.”

“I…I don’t know,” Quinn whispered. “You just…you never talked about them. Do you remember your eleventh birthday? Dad made a joke about ‘fags’ and you told me afterward that it hurt your feelings even though you couldn’t really remember your dads.”

Back then, she wasn’t sure if Rachel really didn’t remember them, or if she just said she couldn’t remember. She thought maybe it just hurt Rachel too much to even think about, so she could never talk about them.

Rachel sniffled and wiped at her eyes. She sat up. “I don’t remember that,” Rachel said quietly, forehead furrowing in frustration and she clearly tried to grope for the memory. “I don’t remember that. Why don’t I remember that?”

“Rachel, the accident--”

“No! You’re making that up! I know I must have told you about them and you’re _lying_ to me.”

“Rachel, sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Rachel,” Quinn said softly. “You never talked to me about them. I think it hu--”

‘I think it hurt you too much,’ Quinn thought.

“I don’t believe you,” Rachel said quietly, cutting her off.”All you do is lie to me.”

“I swear,” Quinn said, sitting up as well and her arms reaching out to Rachel, entreating for understanding, for trust. “You wouldn’t talk about them. You--”

“I have to go,” Rachel said. “I just…I can’t be around you right now.”

“Please don’t leave,” Quinn begged. “Can’t we talk about this? What can I do to prove I’m not lying to you? What can I do to make you believe me? I swear to you, if I knew anything, I would tell you! I would tell you everything!”

“I have to go,” Rachel repeated firmly.

And so Quinn watched her leave, and she thought maybe it would be the last time they would ever be together.

But it wasn’t, because a few days later, Rachel was back and though Quinn tried to bring it up again, Rachel wouldn’t talk about it.

But at least she was back.

\--

It hurt more than it felt good, but Quinn couldn’t stop because it was _almost_ what she wanted for so long. Physically, it was amazing and better than she’d ever experienced with anyone, which was exactly what she thought it would be. But it hurt in a multitude of other ways.

‘Love me again,’ she pleaded silently. ‘Please.’

She’d felt Rachel’s love once-- her love, her affection, her adoration. She’d pushed it away, exploited it, abused it-- practically spat on it, but she all she wanted now was for Rachel to look at her the way she used to.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Please believe me,” she begged.

Rachel’s voice was flat. “I don’t.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Do you love me?” she asked, her voice small. She didn’t care how pathetic she must have sounded, but if Rachel didn’t believe she loved her, then why did Rachel keep coming back?

“I’ve always loved you,” Rachel said, her voice hollow.

“I love you,” Quinn repeated quietly. “I’ve loved you since we were four.”

Rachel chuckled. “Quinn, don’t you think it’s long past the time for me to believe you when you lie to me like that?”

“I’m not lying,” Quinn whispered. “I love you.”

Rachel’s smile was bitter. “I’m already sleeping with you. You have what you want. Physically, at least. Why do you insist on trying to hurt me more by lying to me?”

“I’m not,” Quinn whispered, blinking back tears.

Rachel gave her a crooked smile. “You’re such a liar,” she whispered. She pulled Quinn close. “But it’s okay,” she murmured kissing Quinn’s cheek. “Because even after everything, I still love you. You were right about me, you know,” she said softly. “I _am_ nothing. I’m pathetic. Because someone normal would hate you and I don’t. I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” Quinn said, desperation making her voice higher and more shrill than she wanted.

“You don’t,” Rachel said flatly. “But that’s okay,” she whispered nuzzling Quinn’s cheek. “We both know you can do whatever and say whatever you want to be but I’ll still want you like I’m some mutt you adopted from the pound just to kick around,” she said softly.

“Don’t say that,” Quinn pleaded.

“Why?” Rachel asked lightly, kissing Quinn’s neck. “We both know it’s true.”

“It’s not,” Quinn whimpered. “Stop saying stuff like that. Please,” she begged.

Rachel stroked her hair. “I’m just making sure you know that I know exactly where I stand with you. Not like last time when I really believed you loved me and then you went out of your way to prove you didn’t.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I love you,” she whispered.

“You are _so_ pretty when you lie to me, baby. You’ve always been so pretty,” Rachel murmured. “No awkward stage for you. Not like me,” Rachel chuckled darkly. “But this time, I don’t care how pretty you are or how sweet you can be. This time, I’m not going to believe you. This time, I’m not falling for it.” Rachel whispered before she kissed Quinn.

Rachel tasted like apples, but the kiss tasted bitter for Quinn.

“I’m not lying,” Quinn said quietly when they broke apart.

“You don’t respect me at all, do you?”

She thought because Rachel was so successful and smiled for the cameras that Rachel was okay, that all the things that had happened in her life-- those terrible things were just things in her past. But being with Rachel this way was the terrible evidence that showed her that Rachel could still give a wide, bright smile for the cameras without actually feeling like smiling and Quinn thought it was just her lot in life to have to know that, everyday.


	9. Maneuvering Landmines

Title:Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 11132  
warning: the rape from chapter 5 is revisited.

Chapter 9  


Rachel felt her mother stare at her face and sigh woefully for the billionth time that night.

“ _Mom_ ,” Rachel said, exasperated and annoyed.

Judy Fabray sighed woefully. “But what if it scars?”

Rachel shrugged. “Then it scars, Mom.”

“Why do you insist on doing your own stunts?” Judy asked dramatically.

“Because I have a secret death wish and since I’m much too afraid to just kill myself, I’m fervently hoping that I’ll meet an on-film death much like Brandon Lee in _The Crow_ , thus simultaneously assuring my dual desire for death and for fame by securing a place in the pantheon of memorable actresses. If I can’t achieve it with talent, I am not opposed to achieving it with an accidental death,” Rachel said, her tone flippant.

Quinn released a soft, strangled gasp while their mother stared at her, horrified and their father’s face turned purple with rage. He slammed his fork down on the table.

Russell leaned in close. “I don’t care how old you get,” he said lowly. “When you’re at the table with me, you keep a decent tongue in that mouth of yours. I don’t ever want to hear you joking about something like that again, is that understood? No one at this table finds you amusing other than you, and I don’t recall humor and comedy being a part of your professional repertoire.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Mom. It’s working on the show-- it’s making me build an increasing affinity for being inappropriately dark with my sense of humor.”

“But you didn’t mean it, right, honey?” their mother pressed. “All those things you said-- you didn’t mean it, did you?”

They were all staring at her. Quinn looked horrified and worried, their mother looked terrified and worried and their father looked furious and worried.

She could cop to a self-destructive streak a mile wide and she was pretty accepting of her own mortality, but she wasn’t exactly welcoming death with a ‘come sweet death!’ either. Some days were better than others. This particular day, for instance, was not such a good day. But it wasn’t terrible either.

“Of course I didn’t mean it, Mom,” Rachel said, flashing the toothy smile that had fooled everyone since she was four years old. “I’m sorry. I was being a brat.”

“The next time you feel the need to say something like that, you bite your tongue, is that understood?” their father asked.

“Yes, sir.”

In all honesty, in that moment, she was just annoyed with herself for agreeing to this excruciatingly uncomfortable dinner with Quinn and their parents. She was, after all, sleeping with Quinn who was her adopted sister which sort of made it difficult to face her parents. She spent the better part of her childhood in love with Quinn and feeling embarrassed and ashamed of herself for it. She felt like she was taking advantage, abusing the generosity of an adopted family who pulled her out of an admittedly terrible situation. It was hard enough looking their parents in the face when she just had a crush on Quinn that wouldn’t go away, but now that she was _sleeping_ with Quinn, she really didn’t feel like she could be around them.

But now that she and Quinn were both living in LA, their parents thought it was a good time to visit. On top of being annoyed, she was a little exasperated with her family for making bigger deal of the stitches above her eyebrow than it actually was. She smashed her face into the edge of a coffee table while filming a fight scene, but it wasn’t like her life was in any danger. Her father was on the verge of a lawsuit, even though it had no grounds; her mother was fretful and kept talking about scarring-- a prospect Rachel wasn’t particularly enchanted with either; and Quinn looked like Rachel had been decapitated or something instead of just temporarily disfigured with a relatively minor cut.

She really hadn’t meant to say something like that out loud, even if she really did think about it a lot, and not so much in jest. But she really did regret it because the rest of dinner was completely uncomfortable. At least their parents seemed a little glad to see them though.

“I’m so glad you girls are friends again,” Judy said softly. “It’s so good when sisters can be friends.”

Rachel fought a wince. “Sure, Mom.”

After dinner, Rachel walked Quinn and their parents to the blonde’s car since Quinn was dropping them off at their hotel.

“Are you sure you can’t come with us tomorrow, honey?” Judy asked, pulling Rachel into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said apologetically. “I’m filming tomorrow.”

Her pilot had only recently been picked up, and filming on the first thirteen episodes had resumed.

Judy touched her cheek. “Well, maybe you can still meet us for dinner tomorrow.”

Rachel smiled at her. “Maybe.” She turned to her father and stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Bye, Dad. I’m sorry about earlier.”

He patted her back gingerly. “Just be careful. No more accidents.”

“I will, Dad.”

Finally, there was Quinn, hazel eyes staring into her.

“Bye, Quinn.”

“Bye, Rachel.”

\--

She was reviewing the script for the next day’s shooting when Quinn dropped in on her unannounced. Even after months of sleeping together, Quinn still had never been to her apartment, but mainly because Rachel had never invited her. Quinn knew where she lived because Quinn had picked her up a few times to give her a tour of LA, but Rachel had always waited for her outside.

She considered her apartment to be her refuge and she just didn’t want Quinn in it, so she’d never invited her adopted sister over.

But now it was kind of impossible to avoid because Quinn was standing right there.

“How’d you get in?” Rachel asked, unable to keep the tiny note of hostility out. “It’s gated entry.”

Rachel ignored the way her tone made Quinn wince

“Someone was leaving when I got here,” Quinn said quietly.

“How’d you know which unit was mine?” Rachel asked. “We don’t have one of those building rosters outside.”

“You told me once that you thought it was a good sign that unit 9 was open because it’s your favorite number.”

Rachel softened. “Oh.” She paused. “Why are you here? Did I leave something behind at dinner or something?”

“I just…can we talk?”

Rachel bit her lower lip, contemplating the request. LA was home to her now. This wasn’t some place she could just pack up and leave-- she was bound by a contract. This was the one place in LA that was mostly free of associations with Quinn and she really needed at least one safe place, one place where she wasn’t so afraid.

But Quinn was looking at her with such hope and trepidation and Rachel had never been one to refuse Quinn.

“Sure,” Rachel said. “Come in.”

She held the door wider and Quinn stepped cautiously inside.

“Hi,” Quinn greeted softly.

Rachel couldn’t resist smiling. “Hi, you.”

Quinn smiled back and she looked like she wanted to say something but Rachel took Quinn by the hand.

“Let me show you around.”

A tour of the apartment ended in the bedroom and of course whatever conversation Quinn had been gearing up for was immediately put on hold as they fell into bed together, bodies intertwined and mouths and lips meeting in a heated, insistent kiss.

\--

“I love you,” Rachel breathed into Quinn’s ear. “I love you so much.”

How many times in her life had she wished she didn’t? But she just couldn’t stop. It was so weak of her, but she couldn’t force Quinn out of her system. In darker moments, she unfavorably compared Quinn to an infection.

“I love you, too,” Quinn whispered.

Rachel chuckled softly. “Liar.”

Rachel didn’t know exactly what Quinn was planning or what she was trying to do, but she wasn’t going to fall for it again. When Quinn revealed whatever it was that she was doing, at least Quinn couldn’t take any smirking satisfaction in believing Rachel had fallen for it this time.

\--

They were laying in bed afterward, Rachel on her back staring up at the ceiling and Quinn on her side staring at Rachel.

“It’s not that bad,” Rachel said.

“What?”

“The cut. It’s just a scratch. It only needed a few stitches,” Rachel said, self-consciously bringing her fingers to gingerly touch the cut above her eyebrow which she felt Quinn was staring at. She winced a little because it did still hurt.

“Don’t touch it,” Quinn said.

“Okay, _mom_.”

“Sorry,” Quinn said softly.

It was quiet for a while, and it was Quinn who broke the silence.

“I wanted to ask you about what you said at dinner.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I was kidding, Quinn. You know, as in ‘to deceive in fun’ or to ‘mock playfully.’ I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you sure?” Quinn pressed quietly.

“What are you implying?”

She was furious, but she tried to clamp it down because she really had no idea where Quinn was going with this. She’d always had a tendency toward being histrionic and dramatic, but she also always tried to push it down out of fear of annoying people even more than she already did. She really wanted to fly off the handle and demand _what the fuck did you mean by that_ , but she suppressed the urge.

“Nothing! I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am.”

“It’s just…you know how they say that every joke has a kernel of truth?”

“Who says that?”

“Just…it’s a saying. I don’t know who says it.”

“How can you say it’s a saying without knowing who says it?”

She sensed Quinn’s frustration- the blonde always had a low tolerance for frustration, but Rachel couldn’t help but push it a little.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mean it,” Quinn whispered softly. “That’s all. I just wanted to know if you meant it, even a little.”

“I didn’t,” Rachel said flatly.

Except she did, a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I just…” Quinn faltered. “I want you to know if you want to talk about something, you can talk to me. I’m here for you.”

Rachel smiled bitterly as she remembered Quinn telling her something similar when they were kids. It wasn’t true then and it certainly couldn’t be true now, not after everything that happened between the two of them.

“Thanks,” Rachel said, fighting to push the bitterness away. “But I’m fine. Perfect, in fact.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. She paused. “I could go if you want me to,” she said softly. “I know this is your place and you didn’t expect me to come by. You were probably doing something before I dropped in. Do you want me to go?”

“I think that would be best.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. And she released a little sob from deep in her throat as she sat up to collect her clothing.

“You really missed your calling,” Rachel said softly.

“What?” Quinn asked quietly, sniffling.

“You should have been the actress, not me. I don’t think I could have put on an act like you’ve been doing for _months_.” Rachel paused. “But then again, you put on the same act for _years_ , so maybe you’re just a natural.”

“I don’t understand,” Quinn said weakly.

“I _bet_ you don’t,” Rachel said darkly.

“Rachel--”

“Just leave, Quinn,” Rachel said wearily. “I’ll call you later. Text me tomorrow and let me know where you’re going to dinner with Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly. “Lock the door behind me, okay?”

Rachel chuckled softly. “Afraid some intruder is going to come into my apartment through the unlocked door after you leave, Quinn? Maybe tie me to the bed, torture me a little, rape me and then murder me?”

It slipped out before she could control it. Suddenly her mood just became so dark.

Quinn gasped softly. “Don’t say that!”

Rachel didn’t know where this extremely dark mood was coming from. She wasn’t exactly one of those people who were relentlessly cheerful, though she strove to make that her public persona so most people believed she was. She wasn’t super happy, but she wasn’t a depressed or moody person, either. She was usually just sort of in the middle-- she wasn’t ever really happy, but she wasn’t ever really sad either. If she had to name a mood she felt most, it would probably be ‘blah,’ and she didn’t think that was such a bad way to be.

But in the moment, her mood was extremely dark, and she didn’t know where it came from. She didn’t have a reason to be so upset and angry, but she was. She had a sudden and entirely unpleasant flashback to being fourteen years old, helpless and held down on her bed. It never felt like a safe place after that. The reminiscence was so vivid, she could almost feel rough hands on her skin, holding her down. She could almost smell the memory.

“Sorry,” Rachel said, but she wasn’t sorry and she knew her tone indicated anything but contrition.

“Are you okay?” Quinn whispered.

“We’ve already been through this, Quinn,” Rachel said, trying to keep her voice even.

“I know, but--”

“You should leave,” Rachel cut off. “Right now.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. She finished dressing, took her purse and moved for the door. “You should call me if you want to talk,” she said softly. “I’ll be up. I have some work I need to do at home, too.”

“Just go,” Rachel said quietly.

She just had to get Quinn away from her. If Quinn didn’t leave _right_ now, it was highly possible she would do something they would both regret. She felt like she was on the verge of exploding and if Quinn stayed near her, Rachel was afraid she’d turn on Quinn with the unaccountable rage she was suddenly feeling. She didn’t know why all this anger was bubbling up, why that particular memory had come up for her.

“Bye, Rachel,” Quinn said softly.

“Bye, Quinn.”

Once Rachel heard the front door shut, she got out of bed and stalked to her kitchen. She stared balefully at her front door, daring someone, anyone to come inside uninvited. She opened the refrigerator. She looked at the cartons of eggs in her refrigerator and pulled one out and walked to her sink. She held an egg in each hand and closed her hands into fists, feeling the eggs break in her hands. She tossed the eggs into the sink and grabbed two more eggs and repeated it until she went through the entire 30-egg carton.

She felt a little better afterward. The need to just _hurt_ something overwhelmed her sometimes. She felt a little bad for the souls of baby chickens, but most of the other things she’d tried when she felt like this had proven to be deeply unhealthy for her-- or for someone else. This seemed pretty innocuous in terms of other things she could do.

She turned on the garbage disposal, washed her hands and sat on her sofa and read the script she’d been reading before Quinn came over.

\--

As she read the script, she had to wonder what the hell she was doing in LA.

“You’re a goddamn masochist,” Santana told her the day Rachel had an audition for a part on a new show that was filming in LA.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Rachel chided absently.

Santana chuckled. “You and Quinn are the same,” she noted.

Rachel wondered if she’d be so sensitive to people taking the Lord’s name in vain if she hadn’t been some Jewish girl raised by Protestants. She didn’t remember her fathers much, but she knew they weren’t particularly religious. It was one of those things about herself that she idly wondered about-- how much of it was nature, how much of it was nurture.

But Rachel had to (privately) admit Santana had a point. She was a masochist. What sort of person would decide to take a job in a town with nothing but painful memories for her?

“Seriously,” Santana demanded insistently. “What sort of person?”

“Well,” Rachel drawled. “I suppose I am she.”

But Rachel (privately) thought that Santana had a point.

\--

But it wasn’t all masochism. She really like the script. She was finishing up playing Elphaba on Broadway when her manager gave her the script and said she was perfect for the role.

“It’s you if you were some troubled FBI agent,” Sydney said laughing heartily.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rachel demanded.

“Just read it.”

She liked the script a lot, but she didn’t _love_ it or anything-- it was just different from what she’d usually played because it was more action oriented, and she was up for the challenge and looking forward to a little change. She always like the challenge of new roles. She wasn’t so desperate for a paycheck that she’d take anything, even if she didn’t like it-- she’d made good money over the past few years, she’d been pretty good about saving it and she got a lot of financial advice from her father who seemed to think that just because she’d once had a traumatic brain injury, she had a target on her chest for swindlers and embezzlers. She got sort of miffed when he told her she was gullible and to just trust him with her money, but she had to admit that he was good with keeping her money safe and making her some more. So she didn’t need the money-- she liked the script enough to actually want the part.

She liked the script until she realized it filmed in Los Angeles, which was the one city she vowed she’d never return. She’d done a pretty good job of avoiding LA after Emily died-- she worked on stage primarily out of the country or in New York, the television shows she’d guest-starred on tended to film in Vancouver or New York and the two movies she was in filmed in Taiwan and Prague.

But she was an actress and while she was getting pretty established on stage, she just wasn’t established enough on TV or film to balk at going to _Los Angeles_. She knew she’d have to get around to going back sometime and she thought auditioning for a role she _wanted_ was better than having to go back to LA for a role she _needed_.

Her girlfriend had died in Long Beach and Rachel knew Long Beach wasn’t exactly LA proper, but it was still LA County and the geography had meant nothing to her back then, so she spent years associating the death of her girlfriend with Los Angeles, which was also the newly made home of her adopted sister whom she loved and loathed in equal measure.

It seemed pretty reasonable to avoid Los Angeles, considering Quinn lived there and it held her worst memories of Emily, so Rachel knew it was dumb to go back, but she did it anyway.

“You’re such a fucking masochist!” Santana exclaimed. “You hate LA!”

“Well, I like the script.”

“You’re a dumb ass,” Santana snapped. “What fuckery is this?!”

“It’s not fuckery.”

But really, Rachel had to admit, it kind of was.

Some of her time in LA was a blur, like those days in the hospital when she just kept seeing Emily hovering over her only to be told that Emily was dead and she was just mistaking anyone blonde and female for her girlfriend.

She had vivid memories of arguing with Emily the day before and the day of the accident. She’d gone to LA to audition for a movie and felt pretty good about it, and Emily had gone with her. They turned it into a mini-vacation and things were supposed to be _light_ but they just kept arguing. It’d taken her a while to remember it, and she still wasn’t sure if she was remembering the way it actually happened or if her mind was creating a way to fill in the blanks. But she was pretty certain she’d been getting flak for months for putting off their wedding and so she’d finally snapped and it escalated into daily arguments until the day in which Emily intermittently took her eyes off the road to turn her head and shout at Rachel only to smash through the guardrail.

They had a discussion the day before the accident in their hotel room. Rachel couldn’t remember how it started, only that she didn’t like it. She kept having the urge to just run screaming from the room because she was so uncomfortable.

“Were you ever in love with me?” Emily asked. “Why are you with me if you’re not in love with me?”

“I _am_ in love with you,” Rachel insisted quietly.

Emily chuckled softly. “You’re a good actress, but you’re a terrible liar. If you really were in love with me, you’d _want_ to marry me.”

“I _want_ to marry you. I just want to wait another year-- it’ll give us more time to plan. My parents--”

“We both know you don’t listen to your parents about anything, so I don’t see why you would give into something so important.”

“I listen to them,” Rachel protested weakly

“They practically beg you to come home for a holiday and you never go back.”

“I’d rather spend it with you.”

“Don’t you _dare_ put that on me. I encourage you to go home. You just don’t want to, so you don’t. You just don’t want to marry me, so you don’t.”

“I love you,” Rachel said softly.

Emily paused for a moment before she spoke. “I know you do, baby,” she said gently. “But you’re just with me to be with me. You’re just sort of there.”

That truly stung. “What does _that_ mean?” Rachel demanded.

“Rachel,” Emily said quietly. “You’ve been going through the motions of life since we met, and you go through the motions of our relationship.”

“How can you say that to me? I _love_ you more than anyone!”

Emily smiled ruefully. “I’m not even sure if you’re telling me the truth or not,” she admitted. “You’re such a good person, Rach. And I love you. But something needs to change if we’re going to stay together?”

“What can I do? What do I need to change?”

Emily smiled crookedly. “It’s not just you who needs to change. If you were older, maybe more experienced, you’d realize that.” She sighed. “It’s not really your fault,” Emily said quietly. “You’re so young. Your father was right-- I am too old for you. You were _barely_ legal when we met.”

“I can’t change how old I am. You’re not too old for me. And he doesn’t know me. He’s not even my real dad.”

“He raised you. He’s your dad,” Emily said. “You…” Emily sighed. “You’re young and I get that, and I get that maybe you aren’t ready because you’re young. I am willing to entertain that possibility. But Rachel? How can you honestly think I’d find that believable? You’ve known since you were four that you wanted to be an actress, so now you’re an actress. When you set your mind on something, when you’re sure, you just do it. If you really are in love with me, I think you’d want to marry me. But I don’t think you want that.”  
  
“I do want it,” Rachel whispered. “Please,” she pleaded. “Just give me a little more time. I am in love with you. I am,” she insisted.

She wasn’t, but she was a good enough actress to make Emily believe her, at least, for that day.

“Okay,” Emily said smiling at her. “Okay. Hey, since you nailed that audition, I think I need to buy you dinner. Let’s go right now.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. She reached for Emily’s hand. “I love you, you know. I really really do.”

“I know you do, baby.”

They went to dinner and things were okay until the next day when they argued on the way to visiting some of Emily’s friends from law school.

As time went by, more pieces started to come together. She started to remember more. It wasn’t always such a good thing.

The day of the accident, they were arguing as Emily negotiated a particularly difficult part of the road and Emily kept taking her eyes off the road to turn her head and snap at Rachel. Rachel remembered crying out a warning and experiencing a moment of absolute pure horror as she felt the car slam into a guardrail. She remembered the panic she felt when she realized Emily wasn’t in the car with her anymore and there was water rushing in and she was suffocating from the airbag and couldn’t get her damn seatbelt off. She remembered thinking ‘I am going to die,’ and being so angry that her story was going to end this way. But she also remembered thinking ‘of course,’ because all her life people told her that her fear of water and drowning were unreasonable, but it was obvious she had cause to be afraid. And of course her story would end this way-- she’d tried so hard all of her life not to be miserable and she couldn’t even die peacefully, she had to die via her greatest fear.

Then there was nothing until she woke up to pain and confusion. When she found out she’d lived but Emily didn’t, she was angry for being alive and wished she’d just drowned that day.

\--

The recovery was hard. Physically, she was mostly fine. Almost miraculously fine other than the brain injury. It was more the confusion, the inability to just _understand_ anything. She’d stare at some long, thin yellow object and she couldn’t remember that it was a pencil or what its function was, but she knew it was something basic. Things hurt all the time, this awful ghostly pain that made her feel like her entire body was on fire.

She missed Emily and saw her everywhere, in everyone.

She’d been twenty one at the time of the accident and Emily was the only person she’d ever dated seriously. They’d dated for roughly three and half years when Emily died and while she loved Emily and said ‘yes’ to the proposal, she really only said ‘yes’ out of the sheer shock and excitement that someone actually wanted to spend the rest of her life with _her._ Once she got over the surprise, she thought about taking it back-- but how did a relationship survive that? Rachel couldn’t see how any relationship could survive that. She loved Emily, but she wasn’t at a point where she wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone.

In the intervening years since Emily’s death, Rachel thought a lot about it and felt such _crushing_ guilt for not letting Emily go, because she realized even if she’d been very young at the time, she didn’t postpone the wedding for another year because she was too young to get married, she postponed the wedding because she just didn’t want to marry Emily.

And she didn’t postpone the wedding at her parents’ behest, though everyone probably thought she did. She postponed it because she wanted to.

Emily seemed to have picked up on this because there were accusations of infidelity for months which were completely unfounded before Emily simply declared “you don’t want to marry me because you’re just not in love with me.”

She’d vehemently denied it, assuring Emily she was the only person she’d ever been in love with and trying to convince Emily she just needed more time to get ready. But the truth was, she really wasn’t in love with Emily, though she did love her-- she was just desperately afraid to lose the one person she knew for sure loved her.

When she met Emily, she’d just turned eighteen and her self-esteem was in the dirt. Looking back on it, she would have given herself to _anyone_ who showed her an ounce of interest. . Even now, if someone told her he or she loved her and she was inclined to believe them, they wouldn’t even have to demonstrate it-- she’d just stay with them until the bitter end. She honestly wouldn’t care if they beat the shit out of her every night or called her terrible things daily--she’d still _stay_ if she really believed that person loved her-- and she was actually a little better off emotionally now than she was back then.

Before she met Emily several months into her freshman year at Julliard, she’d had a string of random hook-ups with fellow classmates of both genders which left her feeling empty and used, like someone’s toilet

It left her feeling empty, but she didn’t feel like it was the wrong way to be. Her earliest memory of _real_ sex, not some fumbling middle school groping, was in high school and even now it was painful for her to think about. Up to that point, she’d exchanged a few very chaste kisses with Finn in elementary school behind the cafeteria and a series of furtive make-out sessions with Noah in middle school where the most he tried to do was grope her not-yet formed breasts before she slapped his hand away.

But her earliest memory of real sex had been as a freshman in high school during a party Quinn threw at their house while their parents were away. She’d come home from a shift at work and made a beeline for her bedroom which was the only place in the house she considered herself to be _mostly_ safe. But she’d forgotten to lock the door and so these drunken couples walked in and she shouted at them to get out, that they weren’t supposed to be upstairs.

She vividly remembered being held down on her bed and having a white pill pushed into her mouth and having a hand clamped over her mouth and nose until she was forced to dry-swallow it or suffocate. It was melting into her tongue and it tasted so bitter she wanted to throw up. She remembered having beer forced down her throat and how it spilled onto her face, her hair, her chest. They ripped her clothes off, despite her best efforts to fight them. She remembered they were so concerned with wasting their beer-- not spilling it on her or in the room, but _wasting_ it, that they set their cups down on her bedroom floor so they could finish drinking it later. She remembered one of them-- she couldn’t remember which one, deliberately poured the contents of the cup on her. She still remembered the feel of beer on her skin, in her hair, drenching her pillow and her bed sheets.

She remembered there were too many of them to fight off, and three of them were boys. She remembered begging and crying and them laughing at her. She remembered them accusing her of being a tranny and trying to look for her penis even when it was clear that, contrary to what Quinn was spreading around at school, she was very female in terms of biology.

Her memory of that night became mercifully blurred and she was almost thankful they drugged her even though their intent had been to further incapacitate her. She was _almost_ thankful, except that she had pockets of memory-- a blurred face hovering over her, feeling the heat of someone’s breath against her, the terror she felt as she struggled. She had moments when it just hit her out of nowhere. It was the tone of someone’s voice or smelling a specific brand of cologne or smelling a particular cheap brand of beer, and it would just hit her. She was _almost_ thankful except she still remembered them telling her how Quinn had sent them, and of course that made sense because the upstairs was off-limits and the only way those people would have had the nerve to come up was if Quinn gave them the explicit permission.

She wasn’t sure how long it’d gone on for, just that it was becoming increasingly harder to fight, and that one person climbed off her, giving her a moment of relief that maybe it was over only to have someone else climb on top of her. It was harder to struggle, so hard that she was getting sleepy and groggy. Things blurred again and she was still caught in a haze of panic and weak struggle when Quinn came in and chased them away.

She’d never been so glad to see someone in her entire life. She was naked, covered in beer and her entire body was sore, but it ached especially bad between her legs. She was scared-- so scared. She’d never been that scared in her entire life, not even when her fathers were screaming at her to run, but she just couldn’t because she didn’t want to leave them behind. She couldn’t move. She wanted to shower, she wanted to put her underwear back on, she wanted clothes on again, but she just couldn’t move. It was scary how she couldn’t move even though she tried. She just felt so heavy.

And then Quinn just _stared_ at her, gaped at her like she was some kind of fucking science experiment or maybe more accurately, some sheep for slaughter.

Quinn just stared and the relief Rachel felt in seeing Quinn dissipated into anger and hate when she remembered Quinn had been the one to send those people in the first place.

“Get out.”

She could only manage a whisper.

Quinn stayed for a few moments, just staring at her and Rachel felt a well of panic that Quinn was going to have her turn, too. She imagined all the ways she could be further humiliated-- she knew Quinn didn’t have a problem humiliating and degrading her.

“Get out.”

And Quinn did.

She fell asleep after that and woke up to the smell of stale beer. It was in her hair, her skin, her bed. It was everywhere. She got out of bed but her legs were weak and she was so dizzy, she fell onto her knees. She crawled to the bathroom on her hands and knees, feeling like the animal other people clearly thought she was and spent an indefinite amount of time vomiting into the toilet. Then she took a shower until the water ran cold. Then she took another one when the hot water came back. She saw bruises on her shoulders and calves from where she was held down and the sight just reminded her all over again. Long after that night, that smell of stale beer and sex would hit her while she was in her bedroom-- sometimes while she was sitting at her desk, studying, other times when she was trying to go to sleep. It would just come out of nowhere and she’d have to run to the bathroom to throw up.  
  
After her fathers died, she’d genuinely believed there was nothing left to fear. She couldn’t really remember her fathers, but she remembered how they died and she still remembered it with excruciatingly detailed clarity. When she was four, she thought she had nothing left to fear-- her fathers were dead and she was living with her grandparents who clearly hated her. What was left to fear?

But after it happened, even her room wasn’t her safe space anymore and her bed became a mockery. She was scared of _everyone_.

It wasn’t the first time people violated her personal space. Once Quinn started calling her ‘Tranny’ and ‘RuPaul,’ people started to wonder. Then one day Megan Lee told her “hey, Tranny, what are you doing changing in the girls’ locker room? Your sister says you have a penis so you should be changing with the guys” and Rachel found out Quinn was telling everyone that she had a penis. People started grabbing her and trying to reach under her skirt to _check_ and she knew she should have just started wearing pants or something, except she was so desperate to prove that it was all lies. After all, if she kept wearing skirts, didn’t that prove how much of a girl she was? Even now, the word ‘tranny,’ even when it was hurled at someone else, still made her wince.

It wasn’t the first time people invaded her personal space, but it was the first time when they actually went so far. She thought if she just pretended like it didn’t happen and never mentioned it again, she’d stopped being scared. But she couldn’t stop being afraid. Everyone started to become a potential rapist-- it didn’t matter if they were male or female, because there’d been _six_ of them and three of them were girls and they seemed just as intent on ‘checking for penis’ as the boys did. Everyone became a potential threat. There was a day when Santana playfully slapped her on the butt and it made her run home and cry for two hours. There was another day when Brittany grabbed one of hands and wouldn’t let go in an effort to try to read the note Finn had passed Rachel in Spanish. Rachel had slapped Brittany’s hands away, shouted at her and fled Brittany’s house to wail into a pillow for a few hours before texting Brittany a weak apology and pleading with the blonde to appease Santana for her since Santana went after anyone who was even remotely unkind to Brittany.

She was just so scared all the time.

And she was so scared when she realized she was pregnant that she’d honestly considered either running away from home or just killing herself to end her misery. After all, Quinn had told her the world would be a better place without her, and Rachel was sort of inclined to agree. She used to pray the men who killed her fathers would find her, too, because it would feel poetic. Years after the fact, she could still remember the faces of her fathers’ murderers clearly when she was awake, but she needed a photograph to remember what her fathers looked like. Her fathers’ faces were only clear to her in her dreams, and even then, their anguish had been perfectly captured. The killers had never been caught and when she was little, she used to pray they’d never find her. When she got older, she started to pray they would.

But the thing with losing her parents so young was that she’d always felt her life wasn’t fully hers to lead-- that she had to live and be successful to validate her parents’ lives, too. Like she owed it to them.

So she steeled herself and asked her big sister, Aubrey for help. Aubrey yelled at her and called her a skank, but took her to West Virginia for the abortion, since West Virginia didn’t require parental consent.

And after that, she more or less stopped being scared because she knew that whatever happened to her, she could get through it. But it was more that she just sort of gave up on life after that and she really didn’t care what happened to her afterward. She plastered a smile to her face (even now her costars will grouse and ask her how she can remain relentlessly cheerful even at 5am rehearsals) and just went on with her life-- it was all she’s ever tried to do. No matter what happened in life, she always just tried to go on with it.

After her abortion, she thought if she just _tried_ to stay out of everyone’s way, eventually people would just leave her alone. It didn’t work out that way, of course. People treated her like she was untouchable or subhuman, but no one left her alone. Not a day went by since the middle of eighth grade when _someone_ didn’t call her a name or Slushie her-- on school days it was both.

By the time she left Lima, she was just so _relieved_ , she wanted to cry. She was just hoping for a fresh start. She wasn’t looking for love or to make friends or _anything_ that good-- it seemed too much to hope for. She just wanted a few days of her life without someone throwing something in her face or calling her a name.

And then she met Emily, who was so patient with her. Emily could have pushed for sex-- Rachel would have given in without much prodding. Her only consensual sexual experience had been with Quinn and the aftermath of that was somehow more painful than being held down like an animal and treated like a human toilet while someone else filmed the whole thing like it was some hilarious home movie or something. She thought she couldn’t feel any lower, but Quinn calling her a pervert after their night together brought her down even lower, made her feel even worse about herself.

They’d been drunk when it happened, but it’d meant everything to Rachel while it was happening. She knew it shouldn’t be happening, but it was good to actually have a say in it, to actually want it. She made a few weak protests, but she’d wanted it. After it happened, she fooled herself into believing they could repair things, that she and Quinn could go back to being friends.

She’d been dead wrong. Quinn made her feelings very clear: “You fucking pervert. You’re _sick_. We’re _sisters_. How could you do this? What did you _do_?”

If she’d had to stay in Lima any longer, she would have just killed herself.

Sex seemed violent and scary, but she would have given herself to anyone who asked if they showed her an ounce of kindness. In fact, during her first few months at Julliard, that was exactly what happened. Sex didn’t become any less frightening, but she got more used to doing things she really didn’t want to do.

Emily could have pushed for it or demanded it and Rachel would have given in without a struggle. All Emily would have had to do was _ask_ for it, and Rachel would have given in. But Emily never did and, and after a while, Rachel started to worry that Emily would leave her if she didn’t have sex with her-- sex seemed a pretty compulsory part of a relationship.

But Emily just seemed to know that Rachel really didn’t want to, that she was just giving in and she was always gentle in shutting Rachel down. She waited until Rachel finally _wanted_ to, when she couldn’t take the desire anymore and slowly, after that, sex stopped being something violent, demeaning and frightening, and became just a part of her normal life the way it was supposed to be. Emily didn’t push, so that removed the most of the anxiety and fear.

When they finally had sex for the first time, Emily was gentle so that took away the fear of violence and pain.

Finally, it was actually good-- it felt good and she wanted it and though it took a while, sex became sort of matter-of-fact. Not ordinary or mundane-- just something basic. And even after Emily died, when she just threw herself into one night stand after one night stand and one fling after another, sex wasn’t so scary for her. There were times when she felt used, sure, or when it was just lamentable, but it stopped being scary.

So she felt so much guilt when it came to Emily, because really, Emily was so _good_ to her and she felt like Emily deserved better.

Emily was older, and granted she was anal-retentive and could be a little controlling at times, but Rachel couldn’t remember _ever_ being first in someone’s life. She knew she was probably first in her fathers’ lives, but she just couldn’t remember them except for how they died.

She cherished being first in someone’s life, and perhaps that was egotistical and needy, but it was how she felt. Emily had her faults-- she was bossy, occasionally intolerant, frequently self-involved, chronically critical of everyone and everything, but she was generally patient and sweet to her and she was a person who put her relationships ahead of everything else.

Emily wasn’t as diplomatic as Rachel would have liked her to be-- in the beginning of their relationship, there were multiple skirmishes when they went out to eat and Rachel just pushed food around or picked at her plate. Other people were gentle with her, telling her that she was skinny and she looked like she could use a good meal.

Emily was blunt-- “well, okay then, Body Dysmorphia, then don’t eat.” She gained ten pounds during the first sixteen months of their relationship and everyone told her she looked better with it. Though she never quite stopped thinking of herself as fat, it was easier to believe she wasn’t when she had Emily whispering “you’re beautiful.”

Rachel knew for a fact that if she hadn’t strung Emily along for years, forced Emily to be in a relationship with her by lying and claiming to be just as in love with Emily as Emily was in love with her, then Emily would still be alive. She should have just ended the relationship when she realized she wasn’t in love. By the time an actual proposal came, she should have just ended it.

But she’d been scared-- she wasn’t all that convinced anyone else really loved her and she didn’t want to lose someone who’d proven time and time again that she did.

She just strung Emily along, postponing the wedding for a year and whispering “I am **so** in love with you,” when she didn’t really mean it. She didn’t mean to hurt Emily-- she’d genuinely loved her. It was just that a huge chunk of Emily’s appeal lay in the fact that not only did Emily kind of reminded Rachel of Quinn when Quinn was younger and kinder, but somewhere in Rachel’s mind she thought Emily was sort of like a grownup version of Quinn, too, if Quinn ever allowed herself to stop being such a bitch.

So she just held on too tight.

And now she knew that if she’d just let Emily go, Emily would probably still be alive. And she always remembered Quinn’s telling her ‘you’re a curse’ back when they were still living under the same roof in Lima.

With her fathers _and_ Emily dead, it was a difficult point to argue against.

After Emily died, Rachel just missed her so much, she wished they’d just let her drown in that water. She’d already given up and passed out by then, unable to hold her breath any longer, so what did it matter? She could have let Emily go or she could have just married her.

She really did love Emily and Rachel was pretty certain they would have been happy together. She should have just married her. Emily was good to her and Rachel did her best to be good to Emily, too.

She thought if she’d just married Emily when she had the chance, they’d probably still be living together in their apartment. They’d be happy together, probably bickering over little things as usual and Emily would probably be bossing her around as usual, but mostly, they’d probably be happy-- they’d always been happy. And more importantly, Emily would still be alive. It was probably selfish to wish marrying Emily over letting her go, because really, didn’t Emily deserve someone who was truly in love with her? It was like saying Emily couldn’t do better or something, and Rachel knew that Emily could have done way better than her. It was just that she’d been so sure that Emily loved her and Rachel had never been confident about much.

She could have just let Emily go, or she could have just married her, but instead, she just strung Emily along-- her inaction killed her girlfriend.

She spent years trying to outrun herself after Emily died. She went home for a few weeks at her parents’ behest to recover, but everything was just too much-- too bright, too loud, too rough. Everything over-stimulated her and she spent most of that time holed up in her childhood bedroom between sheets that just felt too abrasive, made her ache and hurt every time she moved _and_ when she was still for too long. She couldn’t feel comfortable longer than a few minutes at a time. She felt like her insides were trying to crawl out of her skin. Sometimes she felt this awful pain through her legs-- traveling from her thighs to her feet, like the marrow was being sucked out. She shouldn’t have been in so much physical pain, but everything just hurt, all the time. She couldn’t get away from herself.

Her family tried to be supportive. Her mother was predictably fretful and solicitous. Her father was shockingly understanding. Her big sister Aubrey was gentle with her-- she couldn’t seem to stop telling her how glad she was that Rachel was alive. “You scared the shit out of me, shrimp,” Aubrey would tell her during their nightly phone conversations after Rachel followed her parents back to Lima and Aubrey went home to her husband in Boston. “What kind of life do you think I would have had without my baby sister?” Even Quinn was uncharacteristically sweet to her, as though she were actually worried or cared.

So she knew her family tried to be as supportive as they could-- and in all honesty, during those first few weeks out of her coma, she needed them desperately. She was just so lost, and so going home seemed like a good idea. She tried to get her bearings, but she couldn’t and soon being around her supportive family made everything hurt even worse.

She couldn’t remember what possessed her to crawl into Quinn’s bed-- she’d had a bad dream or maybe she couldn’t sleep or something, but she found herself seeking comfort where she used to find it when she was small. It helped just a little. Quinn still smelled the same as she did when they were kids and Quinn would hold her on a bad night. They were both bigger now, of course, but Rachel still felt that feeling of just _fitting_ right, the way she used to feel when they were seven. And with Quinn’s blond hair, it was easy to pretend that Quinn was Emily, Emily who’d always been so good to her, who’d always tried to comfort her when she was upset, even if she wasn’t always successful. And she could cry out her apologies for just not loving Emily enough, for holding on so tight that she’d ultimately killed her. She knew she’d never stop apologizing, that she _couldn’t_ stop apologizing.

It was only easy to pretend at night. In the harsh light of day, where everything hurt worse, she couldn’t forget the way Quinn used to treat her. But at night, it was easy to forget, just for a little while, and beg for comfort. For just a little while, in Quinn’s arms and charms, it hurt a little less and while it did still hurt, it was easier to deal with.

“The nights may be the hardest,” one her doctors told her.

But it wasn’t the case. It was the daytime that was hardest. During the day, she ached with regret and remorse for the way she’d killed Emily. She grieved and mourned what she lost because of everyone in her life, Emily was the one person whose love genuinely felt unconditional. She understood that she was probably supposed to be _deserving_ of love, but the world felt so much less scary when she knew there was at least one person who loved her unconditionally, even if she didn’t deserve it. And it was strange how when she was a kid, she really wasn’t afraid of anything-- she was sure she’d struggle through anything that happened to her, but now, as an adult, she was afraid of _everything_. She knew she’d still struggle through anything that happened to her, but she felt like she was going to break apart.

She burned with self-hate and just wished she could die already. She cursed God for putting her through things time and time again that she wished she hadn’t lived through. Every inch of her skin felt raw, like her nerves were on fire. Every moment alive gutted her.

Her first few nights with Quinn were filled with confusion-- there were mornings she woke up when she thought she dreamt the whole thing and reached for Emily, ready to tell her girlfriend about the terrible dream she had only to see Quinn instead. The sight of Quinn sleeping beside her made her physically recoil because it made everything too real.

She knew it was wrong to start sleeping with Quinn-- she was her adopted sister. But when Quinn just let her keep doing it, she couldn’t stop.

She knew it was wrong and she was disgusted with herself for it, the way she was disgusted with herself when she first realized the pain of attraction for someone she could never have because they were _related_.

She was horrified when Quinn told her she loved her-- she’d been certain, and she was certain until this day that Quinn was lying to her. She’d always suspected that Quinn’s abrupt change from treating her with such remarkable sweetness to treating her with such contempt was due to Quinn realizing how in love Rachel was with her. Rachel vividly recalled Quinn telling Sarah Tyler, her voice dripping with such loathing, ‘the little freak is a dyke too, because she’s been peeking at me getting undressed since we were kids,’ because it’d been kind of true. She’d been so afraid after hearing that-- she was sure Quinn would tell their parents about her. But Quinn never did, and she was so thankful Quinn didn’t tell on her, that Rachel was okay with the Slushies and insults and didn’t blame Quinn for hating her.

She felt like mostly deserved whatever treatment Quinn had for her, but lying about loving her seemed just a little too extreme to Rachel.

She knew she deserved the name-calling, rumors, ostracism and Slushies when they were kids, but she just couldn’t take Quinn lying and saying ‘I love you,’ when they were adults, not when Quinn was so successful at feigning sincerity. When Rachel reflected back on their childhood, she wondered if Quinn had ever loved her, or if it’d all been one big prank to set her up for the payoff of years of misery and bullying Quinn inflicted on her. The blonde must have found it hilarious, she must have laughed about how Rachel could have ever believed Quinn actually liked her. But Rachel had honestly been completely fooled into a place of complacency and blind trust when Quinn first started the bullying campaign against her.

When Quinn told her ‘I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you since we were four,’ Rachel had been so furious because she was certain it was a cruel joke and she was not in a place where she was emotionally or mentally equipped to take any more hurt. But when she let her deeply buried secret of being in love with Quinn slip out, she knew she was done for. Now that she’d actually said it out loud, she was finished. She knew Quinn got what she wanted and now Quinn would rat her out to their parents, she would be disowned, kicked out and no one would give a shit about what happened to her, not that anyone ever really did.

Over the years, she’d kept a myriad of secrets for Quinn-- in primary school, it was helping Quinn hide notes from the teacher about talking too much. In middle school, it was about hiding the fact Quinn got caught kissing Matt Rutherford by their pastor at church. In high school, it was the pregnancy. In college, it was the fact that Quinn was dating women.

She would never betray on of Quinn’s secrets, she didn’t have that same kind of faith in Quinn. She’d blurted out that she was in love with Quinn and Rachel knew it was time to leave and possibly never come back.

So she ran and she couldn’t stop. She ran for years, hoping to eventually escape herself, chuckling when one or both of her adopted parents affectionately called her a vagrant and chalked up her nomadic lifestyle to a whimsical personality. Every time one of her parents called her, she expected to be castigated for what she did, for being the degenerate who fucked her own sister, and for spitting on all the kindness and generosity her adopted family bestowed on her. She was so sure Quinn would rat her out, would tell their parents how she basically forced Quinn into it. But it never happened. Instead, she was gently chided for being flaky and whimsical and gently entreated to please come home soon.

She kept running, but called it “working,” not caring if she worked herself to death.

In those early days after fleeing Lima after the accident, she probably did push herself more than she should have. Her mind was still a mess. There were times when she had to call her mother and whisper she couldn’t remember her middle name or her social security number and could she please tell her what they were. She read through her lines over and over again, pushing herself to memorize them by rote, she practiced her songs over and over again until she felt that even if her brain turned to mush, she could say her lines and sing her songs by some kind of muscle memory. She had trouble remembering the name of her favorite childhood stuffed bear and there were times when she looked at a light switch and was terrified because she knew she should know what to do with it, but she didn’t. But she could recite her lines and sing her songs like it was second nature.

She worked hard and she played hard. She threw herself into numerous dalliances with men and women, had discrete flings with costars and directors, and had multiple one night stands. She didn’t care, really, what they did or what they wanted from her. There’d been nights when she left an encounter with bruises and split lips, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t in love and she wasn’t looking for it either.

She looked for things that would make it hurt less, but nothing really helped. Alcohol just made her feel bloated and was honestly a detriment to her career. Drugs were absolutely verboten. She’d gotten into a few bar fights and was castigated by her director and the make-up artist the next day. She looked for ways to feel better and ultimately she decided the best way to feel better was to keep moving, but she always hoped she’d find somewhere she felt like she fit.

She should have just left things with Quinn the way they were, but she was lovesick and addicted and so she sent Quinn an email.

Quinn sent her pages and pages of email, some of the seemingly so sincere and heartfelt that there were at least six different times that Rachel nearly booked a ticket to LA to pound on Quinn’s front door and declare her love. But she just couldn’t believe Quinn for very long.

Her emails to Quinn were short-- she never allowed herself to write more than a few lines because she was afraid of putting metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper and pour her heart out.

She kept running. But eventually she realized she could keep running, but she couldn’t outrun herself. And then she realized she’d missed all the major events in the lives of her loved ones-- birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, the births of both her nieces. She kept running hoping to find a sense of family or belonging, or find a place to call home, only to alienate the people who already loved her.

She’d spent years meeting new people, experiencing intense flings and striking up brief and intense friendships that fizzled out once the geographical proximity ended. She realized that nearly all her friendships were based on geographical convenience.

It was really her own fault. She was never blessed with a robust self-esteem. She tended to believe that most people only tolerated her company and wanted to eschew it altogether, so while she’d often been described as ‘polite’ by her costars, she was also described as ‘aloof’ or ‘shy’ which made her feel like she failed as an actress because she was trying to aim for ‘bubbly’ and ‘cheerful.’

She couldn’t reach out to anyone-- she never quite figured out how to make friends and she didn’t think anyone would _want_ to be her friend anyway. She’d never been able to ask someone (other than Emily) “do you want to get dinner” or “do you want to get a drink?” or “do you want to hang out?” because she was always sure the answer would be ‘no.’

But she was an actress, so once someone reached out to her, she could simulate friendship, but she didn’t really feel it. People were kind to her-- cast and crew members asked her along to meals, happy hours and other social functions, and she generally went, but those friendships she formed tended to fade as soon as the project was completed. It probably faded due in part to her tendency to move somewhere else directly after the project was over, but still.

So, she did make a few friends, but her friendships never lasted very long though there were a few very notable exceptions to that, and by most barometers, she’d achieved success as an actress.

She honestly thought she’d be selfish to demand more out of life, but she just couldn’t stop the desire to keep running until she found a place that felt like home. It didn’t matter where she went though, nothing did. And she finally had to accept that she could be in any country in the world, but she would still be herself and that it wasn’t everyone else or the world, _she_ was the problem.

Her mostly self-imposed isolation hit her one day when she woke up in a hotel room in Paris with a paramedic hovering over her. She’d come to Paris for a much-needed vacation after finishing up her run as Fanny Brice in Barcelona. She’d worked steadily as Fanny for six months and she’d jumped into that role fresh off a five month run as Sheila in _Hair_. She had two weeks of freedom before she had to be in Prague for a movie and she just needed some time to decompress. She’d spent too much time being around people and she just needed some space to decompress-- just because she was lonely didn’t mean she was _alone_. She’d shared too many cramped trailers and hotel rooms, had too many long days in rehearsals where she couldn’t get five _minutes_ to herself. She chose Paris on a whim, but she went to bed one night feeling a little sick and woke up to a paramedic hovering over her.

It was just a bad case of pneumonia but it was bad enough to necessitate a week in the hospital. She’d apparently spent four delirious days in bed that she couldn’t remember, except very vaguely. She didn’t know what would have happened to her-- she thought it was a little overdramatic to say that she would have died, but when they found her, she was dehydrated, delirious and shivering in her own soiled sheets.

Brittany had apparently saved her life-- she didn’t call her friend back when she promised to, and Brittany had become worried and when Brittany couldn’t reach her after three days, Brittany called the hotel and the hotel manager broke into her room. She called Brittany once she was well enough to thank her and swore her friend to secrecy. “I won’t tell anyone other than San. But just come home already,” Brittany told her irritably. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were home. Don’t you think almost dying for the second time in less than four years is a sign you need to come home?”

After she got out of the hospital, she went directly to Prague to film the movie and just toughed it out through the first couple weeks of filming even though she was so rundown and exhausted, she wanted to just curl up in bed and sleep.

The experience freaked her out because it demonstrated there was _no one_ nearby who really cared if she lived or died, if she were sick or well. Granted she’d been on vacation and deliberately took a vacation alone, so if it’d happened while she was working, then obviously someone would have noticed her absence and sent someone after her. But the experience proved to her that she was a little too isolated, even though isolation had been the whole point of that vacation.

Still, it was sort of troubling for her that the only person worried enough to send the paramedics after her was thousands of miles away. So when she left Paris for Prague, she left determined to go back home. She finished her movie and decided that she needed to put down _some_ roots. She went back to New York, secured housing and auditioned for Elphaba.

She spent a year on Broadway and it’d been honestly amazing. But once her show was over, she started to feel that itch again to just _run_. She pushed down the urge to flee the country and instead started to audition aggressively for television pilots, thinking if one got picked up, she’d _have_ to stay somewhere, even if it was only for a little while.

And because she was incredibly masochistic, she decided to come to LA-- the place where she’d lost the one person in the whole world she never doubted loved her, and the home of the one person in all the world who hurt her most.


	10. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 8237

Chapter 10  


The pilot episode aired mid-season on the same night as Quinn’s birthday. Rachel wasn’t much interested in watching it, so she took Quinn to dinner instead.

“But it’s the first episode!” Quinn protested.

“It’s your birthday,” Rachel pointed out. “You can TiVo it and watch it later.”

“You don’t want to watch it?”

Rachel looked at her blankly. “I’m TiVoing it, too.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “You don’t want to watch it together?”

Rachel really didn’t. They were sleeping together and went out to dinner, but it’s not like they were dating. She didn’t know what they were doing. It was destined to crash and burn epically, but Rachel had resigned herself to the inevitable destruction, so she was just waiting for it out. She loved Quinn for years and still did, but she wasn’t about to give Quinn the satisfaction of being tricked again.

“I’d rather just take you out,” Rachel said softly. “It’s your birthday. I want to celebrate it with you. It’s special.”

Quinn looked at her hopefully. “Really?”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Of course.”

\--

She meant it when she said she wanted to celebrate Quinn’s birthday. It was special to her, especially for all those years she wanted to celebrate Quinn’s birthday but couldn’t because being around Rachel Berry-Fabray was an embarrassing social disease and she wasn’t invited to any more of Quinn’s birthday celebrations.

She didn’t know how to move on. Sometimes, she thought she actually did die with her fathers, or maybe with Emily. Sometimes she woke up and she could still feel her fathers’ sticky hot blood on her hands, her face, her neck, soaking through her clothes and she was sure she was dead and all the years had just been some dream of the dead. Sometimes she woke up feeling like she was drowning, hands aching from the struggle of trying to rip through a seatbelt and she was sure she was dead and haunting her loved ones. Sometimes she was sure she was dead and they were all just humoring her and waiting for her to move on-- ghosts never seemed to know they were dead anyway.

But most of the time, she tried to push aside those foolishly morbid thoughts-- she wasn’t some emo or goth kid. She was well into her 20’s and she couldn’t seem to move past childhood bullying. She felt weak and pathetic for it, so she pretended like it didn’t bother her anymore, but it did. And having Quinn back in her life only made it more difficult to pretend like it didn’t bother her.

Most of the time she could grin and bear it. She tried to be as good to Quinn as she could partly because they were siblings-- sisters through the law, and they would always be connected somehow, but mostly because even after all this time, she loved Quinn desperately.

So most of the time, she could take Quinn out, buy her dinner, sleep with her and make her breakfast the next day. Most of the time, it came easy. But sometimes…sometimes, when Quinn lied to her, claiming to love her and trying to convince her of something so blatantly unbelievable, Rachel found it too hard to just try to smile and be sweet. In those moments, she couldn’t help but snap, remind Quinn that she wasn’t fooled that no amount of pretty words or whispered promises were going to make her believe this time.

But when Quinn gave her that look-- that heart-clenching pleading look, it made Rachel feel like shit for saying what was clearly true. She hated that the sight of Quinn crying-- that thing the blonde did of squeezing her eyes extra tight and sniffling like she was just barely holding on, still made her want to get on her knees and wrap her arms around Quinn’s waist and apologize for being such a jerk.

She couldn’t believe in Quinn anymore, but she still loved her.

Sometimes she thought about revenge. She thought about hurling all sorts of names at Quinn-- bitch, liar, hypocrite, whore and throwing drink after drink in Quinn’s face. Sometimes she just wanted to hurt Quinn the way Quinn hurt her. Sometimes, she wanted vengeance.

After leaving Lima for college, she never spoke a word about her experiences. She never cried to a therapist about her fathers or wept in Emily’s arms about everything that had happened to her in middle school and high school. She never talked about why the board game Clue disturbed her, or why she couldn’t go to Murder Mystery dinners, or why crime procedurals made her uneasy until she had the cathartic experience of starring in one. She never talked about why Slushies made her cringe, or why someone casually throwing around the word ‘tranny’ made her so furious. She never talked about why RuPaul made her a little uncomfortable or why she fastidiously moisturized her hands and got weekly manicures to keep her hands as girly-looking as possible. She never explained why the mere idea of being held down or having her movements constricted made her sick and a little panicked or why she refused to drink cheap beer (although now that she was older, she really didn’t have to explain that one). There were things in her life she never spoke about and tried never to think about. She failed at the latter and those old ghosts kept being disturbed all the time, but she tried never to let it out.

She thought it would be easier to bury if she could just cut Quinn out of her life-- it would be difficult, but it was possible. But she’d tried before and failed, and she didn’t think she could do it now that they were living in the same town. And really, hadn’t she come to LA to be closer to Quinn?

She’d thought about therapy in the past. When she was four, her grandparents made ‘therapy’ sound like something only bad people did. Her adoptive father made therapy sound like a combination of witchcraft and quackery. After Emily died, when everything in her muddled head was crashing down on her, she thought about therapy in an effort to get some closure to _everything_. But what she realized was that closure was psychobabble nonsense.

The savagery of her thoughts and impulses frightened her sometimes. In between moving from Amsterdam to Barcelona, she’d fractured three fingers punching a punching bag one night because she actually wanted to punch another person.

She didn’t want to paint over her rage, all of her hurt and hopelessness with genteel cheerfulness-- she honestly wanted to rise above them, to be free of them. And God, she tried, but it wasn’t working.

Sometimes she wanted to hurt those who hurt her, Quinn in particular, but she knew it really didn’t matter. She knew it wouldn’t make her feel better, it wouldn’t miraculously fix everything in her life.

When they were younger, Quinn had the upper hand. It was Quinn’s family she was living with, Quinn’s bedroom she was sharing and Quinn’s house she was staying at. Quinn was the pretty one, the popular one, the well-liked one-- the powerful one. She had nothing. She _was_ nothing. She had no choice just to bend to Quinn’s will. She didn’t have the power to fight.

Now that they were on an even playing field, or perhaps it was more accurately a battlefield, Rachel thought about striking back, making Quinn _pay_. But she couldn’t. And really, how would she even be justified? It was pathetic to be so hung up over things that happened in high school.

Their history was filled with landmines, but Rachel wished and prayed for the ability to forgive and move on. She wanted to take Quinn by the hand and rebuild everything they burnt together.

It was Quinn’s birthday and Rachel desperately wanted it to be one of those days when she could follow her better nature rather than give into the dark of her own heart.

\--

“Do you want sushi?” Rachel asked Quinn as she waited for Quinn to finish getting ready.

“Five minutes!” Quinn promised as she applied her eyeliner. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Take your time. Do you want sushi?”

“But you’re vegan.”

“Yes, but you love sushi.”

“But we should go somewhere we can both--”

“I’m sure I’ll find something, Quinn. I have a reservation at Urasawa if you want sushi.”

“But what are you going to eat? You don’t eat fish.”

Rachel gave her a bright smile. “Let me worry about that. I went there a couple months ago with some people from work and it was amazing, so I know I can find something to eat. You’ll love it.”

Quinn remained uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” Quinn agreed. “Thanks.”

\--

“Rachel,” Quinn hissed. “It’s all fish! The only thing you ate was the vegetable shot appetizer and some rice!”

Rachel shrugged. “Yeah, and it was delicious.”

“I wanted to go somewhere we could both eat,” Quinn said quietly. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Rachel smiled at her. “I’m actually not. Everyone says this is the place to go to for sushi in LA, and sushi’s your favorite. I just wanted to take you somewhere nice for your birthday.”

Quinn looked down at the pristine table. It was wiped down after each course. She bit her lip and then looked up at Rachel again. “Everything is _really_ good,” she admitted quietly. “I think it’s probably the most amazing sushi I’ve ever had, but then again, if I go out for sushi, I go to like, Kabuki’s and most of the time, I get my sushi from Trader Joes.”

Rachel laughed. “I love Trader Joes. Their vegetable samosas are amazing.”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “And everything is pretty cheap, too.”

“Yeah.”

Quinn reached out to put her hand over Rachel’s hand which was resting on the table. They had to be careful about being physical with one another in public because there was always the chance Rachel could be photographed and neither wanted to be photographed touching one another in a manner that was unsisterly. They obviously didn’t think of themselves that way, but the fact remained that legally, they were sisters. “Thank you,” she said. “Seriously.”

Rachel smiled at her. “You really like it?”

“That’s an understatement. I had multiple foodgasms.”

Rachel laughed again. “I’m glad.” She played with her sake cup. “We can come back some other time,” she offered.

“I’m not sure I can take another time. This was _so_ good, but I’m so full, it’s disgusting.”

“We’ll just have to see.”

“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” Quinn warned.

Rachel smiled. “I don’t mind.”

\--

Since the pilot episode of her show was airing as they had dinner, Rachel’s phone kept ringing and beeping from phone calls and text messages from family members, costars and friends.

Quinn grabbed her own phone and rolled her eyes at the text message. “Mom wants to know why you aren’t picking up your phone.”

Rachel chuckled and showed Quinn the text message from their father. “Dad is reminding me to wish you a happy birthday.”

\--

Everything was fine until Quinn caught sight of the bill which was four figures.

Quinn snatched the check out of Rachel’s hands and stared at it. “Is this a typo?”

Rachel gently plucked it out of Quinn’s hands. “It’s your birthday, calm down.”

“But--”

“It’s your birthday,” Rachel said firmly. “If you’re going to make a big deal out of this, you’ll just have to walk home,” she joked.

Quinn looked stricken for a moment. “Okay,” she said softly. “Sorry.”

“You know I wouldn’t actually make you walk home, right?” Rachel asked. “Those shoes are too cute for that. I wouldn’t want you to ruin them.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “You just like my shoes better than you like me.”

Rachel chuckled. “Now you’re just being insecure.”

“You’re just trying to steal my shoes away from me.”

“Now you’re just being paranoid.”

Quinn laughed softly. “True enough,” she said. “We could never borrow anything from each other growing up because I was so much bigger than you were.”

“Mmm.” Rachel said, feeling her mood take a darker turn at the mention of their shared childhood.

Quinn seemed to sense the change in her mood.

“Hey,” Quinn said. “Can we go back to my place afterward and watch your show?”

“Sure.”

Rachel settled the bill and then they left.

\--

“Go on up,” Rachel said when she pulled into the guest space in the parking garage of Quinn’s apartment complex. “I’ll come up in a few minutes.”

Quinn hesitated. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to get something out of my trunk.”

“I can wait for you…”

“Just go up.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “You’re not going to drive away are you? Because that would be pretty crappy to do on my birthday.”

Rachel smiled ruefully. “I’d never do that to you.”

“Okay, then,” Quinn said leaning in and pressing her lips to Rachel’s cheek. “See you in a few minutes.”

Rachel watched Quinn leave and sighed. She had to hand it to Quinn-- the blonde was an excellent actress. Sometimes she really believed Quinn felt for her what she felt for Quinn.

She got out of her car, opened her trunk and took out Quinn’s present, already wrapped, and the balloons she’d stuffed in there. It took her a few minutes to untangle the strings of the balloons, but she finally made her way to Quinn’s apartment. It was unlocked and Quinn was waiting for her on the couch.

“Happy birthday,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn’s face visibly brightened. “You didn’t have to!”

She hadn’t hoped for anything, but when Rachel showed up without even a _card_ , she just assumed Rachel wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Then they went to Urasawa which really was the place to go for sushi in LA.

Rachel shrugged. “It’s your birthday. It’s your present and some balloons. It’s the least I could do.”

She handed the balloons and gift to Quinn.

“Thanks,” Quinn said softly

She unwrapped the present and laughed gently. “Shoes?”

“I know,” Rachel said. “I thought our earlier conversation was quite fitting.”

“Rachel, these are Christian Louboutins!”

“Brittany said you were eyeing these.”

“I was, but--”

“Happy Birthday.”

“It’s just…it’s so much. It’s too much.”

“It’s your birthday, Quinn.”

“I know that,” Quinn said. “But I’m starting to feel like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ ”

“I’m not sure that analogy works here,” Rachel said. “Primarily because you aren’t a hooker and I’m not particularly comfortable being compared to Richard Gere.”

“It’s just…it’s too much.”

“Quinn, we both know that you can afford them on your own. I admit, it’s probably a somewhat vulgar display of wealth on my part, but I can afford it. And we both know that this gift isn’t particularly extravagant because you could have afforded them on your own.”

“It’s just…I can’t believe you went to the trouble of talking to Brittany about it.”

“Well, she _is_ my friend, too, Quinn. The topic of what you wanted for your birthday was incidental to our overall conversation.”

“I just…” she trailed off. “Thank you,” she said softly, her arms reaching out to wrap around Rachel.

Rachel held her and stroked her hair. “You’re welcome.”

“Can we watch your show now?”

Rachel groaned a little. “Do we have to?”

Quinn grinned at her. “It’s my birthday, so yes.”

\--

Her show was doing pretty well-- it was getting surprisingly good critical acclaim and had consistently good ratings. But Rachel wasn’t _that_ surprised-- it wasn’t as though she’d try out for something she thought was shitty. Still, even she was surprised that it was doing as well as it did, because it was honestly another crime procedural, sort of a _Criminal Minds_ meets _Grey’s Anatomy_.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Santana said. “You’re really just playing yourself.”

“Thanks a lot,” Rachel said dryly.

She wasn’t the star of the show, but she got second billing to her co-star, Thomas Reynolds, who was the undisputed star of the show.

She’d received unwanted attention due to the comparisons between herself and her character, Lucy Trask, an FBI agent who’d witnessed the violent murder of her family when she was twelve and had since covered up the trauma with eccentric non-sequiturs and a breezy smile.

She’d been giving interviews for years, especially when she played Elphaba. But it was this role as Lucy Trask that was generating the most amount of media interest.

She’d given interviews with _Newsweek_ , _Entertainment Weekly_ , _Vogue_ and various other magazines and newspapers, especially after her Drama Desk and Tony award wins, but no one had ever asked about her fathers’ murder before.

“I was four years old when my parents died,” she said, smiling through her first print interview for the show just a few weeks after the pilot aired. “I honestly don’t remember it. It happened very quickly,” she said, lying through her smile.

She’d lied about not being able to remember for years, she didn’t see why she should start telling the truth now.

\--

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked the day the magazine hit the stands. She held up the magazine and bit her lip guiltily. “I couldn’t resist buying it,” she added quickly. “I know you said the interview was uncomfortable, but I mean, you’re on the cover!”

Rachel chuckled softly and passed her a pen. “Here,” she said. “I’m sure you can’t wait to deface it. What do you feel like giving me? Some glasses? Buck teeth? Warts? Unattractive moles?”

Rachel knew it was Quinn who’d drawn the unflattering pictures of her in the girls’ bathrooms in middle school and high school-- she recognized Quinn’s doodling style and she knew Quinn was the one who’d defaced all her pictures in all of the school yearbooks.

Quinn swallowed visibly. “I just wanted it because I was proud of you,” she said quietly, wounded features making Rachel feel repentant for a moment before she pushed that away because Quinn was probably just pretending.

“Right,” Rachel drawled.

“I am,” Quinn insisted.

“Okay.”

“I am,” Quinn repeated insistently.

“Okay.”

“I am!”

“Okay!”

Quinn deflated. “You don’t believe me,” she said quietly.

Rachel shrugged. “No,” she admitted. She smiled. “But I _am_ glad to see you,” she reached out and pulled Quinn close, drawing her near. She grazed Quinn’s nose with her own. “I missed you today.” Rachel gave her a tiny smile. “I’m not really sure why, so I can’t really give you a reason,” she added, because she knew Quinn would ask‘why.’ She stroked Quinn’s hair. “I just wanted to see you all day. I couldn’t wait to see you.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “I missed you, too,” she said.

“Mmm,” Rachel said noncommittally.

Quinn seemed to deflate. “What can I say or do to make you believe me?”

“About what?” Rachel asked. “I tend to believe you, Quinn. Like yesterday when you told me to take an umbrella because there was a 30% chance of a rain.”

Quinn swallowed visibly. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I love you,” Quinn said quietly

“Okay,” Rachel said, scoffing. She rolled her eyes.

“Stop doing that!”

“What?”

“You…you…you won’t _believe_ me.”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t think you really care what I believe, Quinn.”

\--

She read the article and was relieved the interview read more or less exactly the way she gave it. Sometimes interviews were edited to be pretty unflattering or things were taken out of context, but this interview was almost verbatim, which was kind of nice.

\--

She woke up a few hours after going to sleep because Quinn was shaking her awake.

“Rachel, Rach. Rachel, please…”

Rachel wrenched herself away from Quinn and curled onto her side. She pressed her hands over her mouth wishing she could cram her cries back in. She felt Quinn rub her back and Rachel pulled away. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was all so real.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Rachel said gruffly. “Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

Quinn put her palm on Rachel’s back. “Can I do something? Can I get you something?”

Rachel leaned away from Quinn’s hand. She just…she _couldn’t_ stand to be touched sometimes, by anyone.

“No. Go to sleep.”

She got out of bed, ready to leave. She just needed to be alone for a while and she couldn’t handle Quinn acting so sweet and concerned, like this thing between them was anything other than sex for Quinn.

“Rachel, wait. Please,” Quinn whispered as Rachel got dressed.

Rachel stilled. “What?”

“Please don’t leave. Please stay the night.”

Rachel swallowed with difficulty and she resented Quinn so much for asking, because she really couldn’t refuse anything Quinn asked even when it ran in direct opposition to what she wanted. She tossed her jeans aside. “I’ll be in your living room.”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

\--

After dreaming of her fathers, Rachel found it impossible to go to sleep. She got out of bed and went to Quinn’s living room and curled up on the couch and cried softly. She honestly couldn’t remember her fathers other than how they died. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever remembered them and her memories of them were lost to the accident that stole Emily from her, or if she’d somehow forgotten them over time. The possibility of the latter made her hate herself and she was filled with guilt and remorse because she knew her fathers must have loved her-- even as they were being beaten and lay dying, their only plea to her was to run. They must have loved her. They loved her, and she’d forgotten them.

Quinn insisted that she never told Quinn about them, but she just didn’t understand how that could be true. Obviously she couldn’t remember ever telling Quinn about them, or else she’d be able to remember what she told Quinn. But she couldn’t remember ever refusing to talk about them, either. Granted the memory loss made it very difficult to determine of Quinn was lying to her or if Quinn was telling the truth, but Rachel just couldn’t understand how she would keep something so important from Quinn. Quinn was the only person she’d trusted back then.

She was so ashamed of herself for not remembering them because what kind of child would forget her parents? The worst part was not knowing if she didn’t remember because of the passage of time or because of the accident. Either way, she was deeply ashamed of herself and she couldn’t even ask her mother about her father, Samuel, because she didn’t want to admit to her mother that she’d forgotten her fathers-- what would another parent think of such a child? Her mother never really knew her father, Paul, so she wasn’t a good source anyway, and her father Paul had no surviving family.

Rachel heard the bedroom door open and then Quinn padded into the living room. Quinn crouched next to her.

“Rachel?”

Rachel didn’t respond, trying to feign sleep.

“Rachel, I know you’re awake.”

Rachel didn’t respond.

“Rachel, I just want to know if you’re okay,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel stayed silent.

Quinn remained crouched next to the sofa for a few minutes and then sighed.

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly. She pressed a soft kiss to Rachel’s forehead. “You can come back to bed when you’re ready. But I want you to know if you want to talk about it, you can tell me. I think it might help.”

Quinn left the living room and Rachel opened her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t remember her fathers except the last day of their lives, but she did remember Quinn shouting “it’s a good thing your faggot fathers died before they could have another tranny baby like you! It figures freaks like them would have a freak like you for a kid!” at her back when they were in high school. She swallowed with difficulty and clenched her jaw. Her hand curled into a fist. She did that a few more times-- clenching her fist and then relaxing. Finally, she got up and went back to bed.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered, getting back into bed.

“It’s okay,” Quinn said. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” She paused. “Do…do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Rachel said. ‘Not with you,’ she added silently. ‘Never with you.’

If she genuinely never told Quinn about her fathers, Rachel was a little glad. She may not have been able to remember them, but she liked to believe they were amazing and she was glad she didn’t share memories of them with a girl who would call them “faggots” or “freaks” and who rejoiced in their violent deaths.

\--

 

Her earliest memory was of her fathers’ murders. She remembered the men grabbing her by the waist, picking her up and holding her up in the air. She remembered her fathers’ cries as they wrenched her away. They shouted at her to run, but couldn’t leave them behind, so she just watched and pleaded for it to stop. She remembered pulling on someone’s clothing, beating their legs with her fists, shouting at them to stop. She remembered one of them hitting her in the face so hard, she was knocked flat on her butt. She remembered their curses, the horrible things they called her fathers, the horrible things they called her. She remembered their jubilant laughter, the sound of high-fives and back slaps as they ran off. She remembered crawling to her fathers and just curling up between them as she listened to their dying moans of pain.

“Rachel,” her daddy croaked. “Rachel, they could come back. Rachel, _run_.”

But she couldn’t run.

Even now, she couldn’t forget. Everything was so vivid. When she was awake, the memory seemed a little more distant. She could remember sights and she could remember the terror she felt. But when she dreamt, it was like a movie being played out in her head, though she wasn’t sure if it played out exactly the way it had, or if her mind had exaggerated it somehow. When she dreamt, she could smell things-- the air that day, the metallic smell of her fathers’ blood mingling together into snow and concrete, exhaust fumes. When she dreamt, she heard things-- not just the cries and moans of her fathers, or her daddy’s dying words-- those haunted her even when she was awake. But when she dreamt, she could hear the sound of flesh being struck, bodies falling to the ground, first the crunch of kneecaps onto the ground and then their torsos and finally their heads smacking onto the ground. She could hear distant cars rushing by.

She relived her fathers’ deaths night after night for the first couple years after they died. She was living with her grandparents then who were furious at the way she disturbed their sleep daily. Looking back on it, Rachel really couldn’t blame them-- they’d lost their only child and she was a piss poor, unwanted replacement. She was an extra mouth to feed for people living on limited incomes. She woke them up every night with crying and whining. She wet the bed a few times which she remembered with humiliating clarity. At the time, she’d thought they were being unfair and unreasonable, but she understood them better now.

She’d been so relieved when she finally left her grandparents’ house. Even as an adult, she really didn’t understand how it happened. One day she’d been living there, and the next, she broke her arm and she was moved into Quinn’s house. While she lived with her grandparents, her mother visited her religiously twice a week for three years, always bringing Quinn and Aubrey along.

Just like she remembered her fathers’ deaths with painful clarity, she remembered meeting Quinn, their mother and their sister for the first time with clarity. She’d been in shock and she was so afraid, so confused. She couldn’t stop crying for more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time, no matter how hard she tried. But somehow they managed to make her feel better and even laugh a little.

When she lived with her grandparents and they would yell at her, spank, make her sit in the cold bath or put her into the car trunk for her timeouts, she did her best not to cry, whine or complain. She just tried to be as quiet and still as she could and she would think about Quinn, Aubrey and their mother and it would seem to make the lecture or punishment pass that much quicker. When she thought about them, it never seemed so bad and it made everything hurt less.

Sometimes she could forget how much it hurt to the point it made her smile, which would make her grandfather or grandmother angry all over again because they thought she was being disrespectful. It was always a little worse after that, but Rachel would just close her eyes as tight as she could and think about the feel of Quinn’s hand in hers, or the funny faces Aubrey would make for her or the touch of their mother’s hand against her cheek. And it made it all okay.

She still remembered the first day of coming home.

It was a few days after her seventh birthday. Her arm hurt a lot-- to the point she wanted to cry, but she forced herself not to. She went upstairs with Quinn and they talked for a while. Rachel had no idea why they talked so much back then. What the hell did kids that age have to talk about? In any case, she remembered sitting with Quinn on a Tinkerbell bed spread. She remembered Quinn asking for the third time that day “does it hurt?”

It made Rachel want to cry because it’d been so long since she felt like someone really cared about her, and Quinn asked like she was actually concerned.  
\--

“Does it hurt?” Quinn asked for the third time as they sat on Rachel’s bed.

Rachel’s lip was wobbly. “It’s okay,” she assured. “Honest. It only hurts a little bit.”

Quinn looked distressed. “It looks like it’d hurt a lot.”

“It hurt more before. It’s okay now.”

Quinn leaned forward and impetuously kissed Rachel on the nose. “Does that feel better?”

Rachel giggled. “Silly. I told you yes.”

Quinn smiled. “Well, that was in the car. I’m asking you now.”

Rachel smiled reassuringly. “It feels better.”

A few minutes later, they went downstairs and Rachel had the first birthday party in three years.

\--

Rachel was so happy when she moved in with Quinn, she felt like maybe those years with Grandma and Grandpa Berry were just training her to be grateful for what she had when she finally moved in with the Fabrays.

She had a mother for the first time in her life, so she didn’t feel like such a freak anymore for not having one. (Over the years, Rachel became particularly thankful for this when she went shopping with her mother and was gently dissuaded from buying the animal-print and argyle sweaters, knee socks, plaid skirts, Mary Janes and one regrettable pants suit that she found appealing. There truly was something to be said about having a mother). She had another father who wasn’t as sweet to her as her real dads, but they were just getting to know one another. She had a big sister named Aubrey who was the coolest person ever and she had a best friend named Quinn who just seemed like the best person in the world. Quinn kicked a boy named Kurt Hummel who made fun of Rachel’s cast because it was ‘unflattering’ and made Kurt cry and Rachel knew that Quinn would always protect her, and they would always be best friends. Quinn could do no wrong.

In later years, this belief would prove to be particularly devastating.

\--  
She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing with Quinn. She knew it was wrong, Quinn was her sister. They weren’t supposed to be having sex. But she couldn’t stop.

They didn’t talk about it-- they each just went along with it and pretended like they didn’t grow up in the same house and called the same people ‘mom’ and ‘dad. They were sleeping together and they occasionally met for dinner or had breakfast together, but Rachel couldn’t say that they were dating. And really, she didn’t _want_ to date Quinn. They were related, even if it wasn’t by blood. She may go by Rachel Berry professionally, but her legal last name was still Fabray-- just like Quinn’s. It was a little too V.C. Andrews for her.

They hadn’t talked about it. They’d been sleeping together for months, but they never discussed what it all meant, which suited Rachel fine because she didn’t really want to talk or think about it. She was deeply uncomfortable with it, the way she’d been uncomfortable with her feelings for Quinn since they were kids, but this time, she knew exactly where she stood with Quinn-- she was nothing. Quinn may try to trick her into believing differently, but Rachel wasn’t going to be fooled this time.

She still remembered when she realized she didn’t just worship Quinn, she _loved_ her. It’d been in seventh grade. They were still sharing a bedroom then.

\--  
  
They’d just finished doing their Social Studies homework and were taking a break by painting each others’ toenails whilst lying on Quinn’s bed before they started their English homework.

“That inappropriate Jacob Ben Israel tried to kiss me again,” Rachel complained. “Hey! Careful!” she exclaimed when Quinn got a stripe of baby pink nail polish on the side of her toe instead of her toenail.

“Sorry,” Quinn said, wiping at it with a Q-tip before it could dry. “Good as new. So, uh, what did you do?”

“I punched him in the stomach and gave him a very stern lecture about appropriate boundaries and what to do when the object of your affection, which in this instance was me, does not reciprocate your romantic feelings.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “That’s just a fancy way of saying what happens when someone you like doesn’t like you back, right?”

“Yes,” Rachel admittedly grudgingly in a huff. “Though I highly doubt _you_ would ever be in such a position.”

Quinn gave her a slight smile. “Don’t be so sure. So what did you tell him to do?”

“I told him that because I do not return his feelings, I would spurn all future advances and to spare himself the humiliating and potentially scarring effects of that, he should focus his attentions onto someone else.”

Quinn finished painting Rachel’s toes, and recapped the bottle of nail polish. She tightened it one more time just to be sure and then tossed it carelessly onto her nightstand. She tucked her chin into her palm. “So, it’s that easy? Just think about someone else?”

Rachel shrugged. “How difficult can it be?”

“I think it’d be a lot harder than you think to find someone else to like other than you.”

Rachel laughed softly and grinned at Quinn. “Dork.”

“Nerd.”  
  
But Quinn peered up at her through impossibly thick eyelashes, her expression just so sincere. She was just so _pretty_ and then Quinn smiled at her and it was different from Quinn’s school picture smile or the way Quinn smiled at their Mom and Dad. It was different from every smile she’d ever seen on Quinn’s face. It was just…it seemed happy and sad at the same time and Rachel found it difficult to explain, but her stomach twisted into knots and she felt something sort of hit her somewhere between her chest and her stomach.

“You okay, Quinn?” Rachel asked hesitantly, because suddenly she wasn’t so sure if Quinn was.

Quinn gave her a tiny smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?’

“I don’t know…” Rachel trailed off.

Quinn tweaked her nose. “You tell that little troll Jacob Ben Israel that if he ever touches you again I’m going to set his JewFro on fire.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I don’t think you’d have to go to such extremes. I think he might also be trying to curry Brittany’s favor. Are you going to set his hair on fire for trying to kiss Brittany, too?”

Quinn sniffed dismissively. “Santana would set his hair _and_ his pants on fire if he ever tried kissing Brittany. Let San worry about Brit and I’ll worry about you.”

Rachel had to smile at that and Quinn smiled back. And that was the day Rachel first realized she had it _bad_ for her adopted sister.

\--

She didn’t want the attraction-- it felt dirty and wrong. They were _sisters_.

She liked plenty of boys-- Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang, Tommy Morris. But none of them compared to Quinn.

She wanted so badly just to be normal and at first, she blamed her daddies because her father, Russell, said they were perverts and degenerates and he was glad she was away from them even if he was sorry they had to die to make that happen. She thought it was something in them that made her who she was.

But the thing was, _everyone_ loved Quinn. Aubrey used to make comments about how Quinn was Mom and Dad’s favorite and even though Mom protested, everyone knew it was true. Quinn had always been the most popular girl in school-- the boys liked her, the girls liked her, even the teachers liked her. Strangers on the street would stop their mom when they were all out together to tell her how pretty Quinn was.

_Everyone_ loved Quinn, so how could she not?

\--

She was so lost and confused when Quinn started to pull away. It started when she crawled into Quinn’s bed one night after she had a bad dream and Quinn pretended to be asleep when Rachel knew she wasn’t. They’d shared a room for a long time, so Rachel just knew.

Quinn started to ignore her. It was kind of innocuous at first. She’d ask Quinn a question, and Quinn wouldn’t respond, so Rachel just assumed that maybe Quinn didn’t hear, and she’d ask it again. Then it became clear that Quinn was ignoring her.

She assumed Quinn was just mad-- they’d fought before, and so sometimes they’d ignored each other. She thought it would blow over. She didn’t know what she did to make Quinn so mad, but since she didn’t know, she didn’t feel the need to apologize. Why should she apologize for something she didn’t know she did?

Rachel gave Quinn a couple weeks, but when Quinn wouldn’t talk to her or even acknowledge her, Rachel started to worry. She didn’t care what she had to apologize for, she didn’t even care if she was right and Quinn was wrong or Quinn was mad at her over nothing or Quinn was mad at her for something Rachel didn’t even do-- she was willing to apologize for _anything_ if Quinn would just talk to her again.

“Quinn?”

Quinn ignored her.

“Quinn, just….just tell me what I did to upset you and I won’t do it again.”

She wanted to cry, but she didn’t think she had any right to cry when she’d clearly done something to make Quinn so mad.

But Quinn refused to talk to her. She begged Quinn to talk to her, got down on her knees next to Quinn’s bed and pleaded. But still Quinn ignored her at home and at school.

Then Quinn started acting like she didn’t exist. Quinn would knock into her like she was empty space, like she wasn’t even there. They’d walk home from school, Quinn hurrying to get away from her and she’d be just a few steps behind but Quinn would slam the door shut and lock it.

Santana and Brittany tried to intercede on her behalf a few times, but Quinn wouldn’t tell them what she did wrong either.

“She really didn’t tell you?” Rachel would ask, distraught, more times than she could count.

“She didn’t tell us anything,” Santana said. “Sorry, Rach. Are you sure you didn’t do anything?”

“I don’t remember!”

“Well, you must have done something.”

“But I don’t know what it is!”

Brittany put her arm around Rachel. “Don’t worry, Rach. We’ll keep asking and when she does, we’ll tell you. Then you can say sorry and we can all be friends again.”

“But I already said I’m sorry!”

“Well, maybe when you apologize for what you did, she’ll finally accept.”

Rachel bit her lip. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t stress out, Rach. We’ve known Quinn longer than you and she has a _temper_ ,” Santana said.

“No, she doesn’t,” Rachel refuted.

“She _totally_ does, Rach,” Santana said. “She can be so fucking unreasonable sometimes. She’s crazy. She should be medicated or something.”

“That’s not true!”

“I’m trying to be on your side, moron!”

“Well, don’t say stuff like that about her!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re her sister. But if you were just her friend, you’d know she’s a crazy ass sometimes.”

“Shut up!”

“Make me!”

“Oh, both of you shut up,” Brittany intervened, slapping both of them on the back of their heads. “You’re _all_ crazy.”

“Ow, _Brit_!” Santana whined.

“That didn’t hurt,” Brittany said rolling her eyes. “Now kiss and make up.”

Rachel and Santana sighed with exasperation and chastely pecked their lips together.

“Shake hands,” Brittany commanded.

Rachel and Santana sighed and shook hands.

“Now hug.”

Rachel and Santana sighed and hugged.

“Now both of you say you’re sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Rachel and Santana said in unison.

Brittany paused for a moment. “Hey!”

Rachel and Santana laughed and exchanged high fives.

Santana put her arm around Brittany and pulled her close. “You know I love you, but you fall for that every time.”

“Whatever,” Brittany groused. She smiled at Rachel. “Do you feel better, Rach?”

“A little bit,” Rachel admitted. “But just…just find out for me why she’s so mad, okay?”

“Of course.”

\--

But Santana and Brittany didn’t find out why either.

It got too hard to be around Quinn-- Quinn just looked so mad that she was present that Rachel just tried to leave a room as soon as Quinn came into it, because she didn’t want to make Quinn madder than she already was.

She moved out of their bedroom by the end of eighth grade into Aubrey’s old room. She didn’t want to give up sharing a bedroom with Quinn, but her mere presence seemed to make Quinn mad and she no longer felt comfortable in their room. It made her sad to leave, but it was also kind of a relief.

Things started getting worse. Quinn started talking to her again, but it was only to yell at her and she’d yell such mean things. Things like “you’re a curse” and “you’re nothing” and “you’re pathetic” and Rachel couldn’t argue with any of those things because she knew it was true. It was just that she used to believe Quinn was the one person on earth who would never believe those things about her, let alone say them.

Knowing how Quinn really felt about her confirmed all her worst fears. Santana and Brittany thought she should tell their parents on Quinn, but Rachel knew that was a mistake. Quinn was their real kid and they loved her more and it was highly likely that their parents would be mad at her for making Quinn so mad in the first place. And anyway, she’d _never_ tattle on Quinn-- no matter what.

\--  
High school came and Quinn Slushied her on the first day and Rachel just knew that Quinn would never forgive her for whatever it was she did wrong. Quinn had long started calling her names like “Tranny,” “Man Hands,” “Treasure Trail,” and “RuPaul,” but the shock and sting of ice and artificial flavoring hitting her in the face hurt more than anything else, especially because Quinn did it twice that first day. It just made her realize how low she’d sunk in Quinn’s eyes-- Rachel had seen Quinn treat _animals_ better than she treated her. Quinn might cuss out some annoying dog that barked too much and call it a name, but she wouldn’t Slushie it.

And Quinn Slushied her with a cherry Slushie which Quinn knew full well was the flavor Rachel hated most-- she’d spilled some juice from a cherry popsicle when she was little and the red just reminded her of blood which reminded her of her fathers.

Other students started doing the same thing and she spent most of her day in school wanting to cry. But she remembered her grandfather yanking her out of bed, dragging her into the bathroom, filling the bathtub with cold water and telling her to get inside. He told her no one liked a goddamn crybaby and if she was going to insist on crying, he was going to give her something to cry about and so she sat there, shivering, until he came back, pulled her out and told her she was lucky he didn’t drown her.

No one liked a crybaby and Rachel wasn’t about to give people even more reason not to like her and she wasn’t about to tempt people into giving her something to _really_ cry about.

So she shut her mouth, kept her head down, plastered a smile to her face and treated people the way she hoped they would eventually treat her.

\--

Then one day during freshman year, Rachel found out why Quinn hated her so much when she overheard Quinn telling Sarah Tyler ‘the little freak is a dyke too, because she’s been peeking at me getting undressed since we were kids,’ and Rachel knew that Quinn had caught her.

She hadn’t meant to peek. They shared a bedroom and she’d look over to say something to Quinn and realized Quinn was changing. She hadn’t even realized she was peeking! It made her so flustered that she always looked away quickly-- she honestly never realized she’d even _looked_ , let alone _peeked_ , but she must have because Quinn said it. But she didn’t think it was going on since they were kids, she was sure it was more recent-- just since the middle of seventh grade. But hearing Quinn say that, she knew she’d violated Quinn’s trust. She knew Quinn knew how she felt about her, and it was no wonder Quinn was so repulsed.

She hadn’t meant to get caught-- she thought she was a good enough actress to pretend like nothing had changed. She thought if she pushed down her feelings long enough and hard enough, she could just see Quinn as a sister.

But she’d gotten caught.

No wonder Quinn just seemed so disgusted every time she was around. No wonder Quinn sent those people after her that night-- it’d been a clear message.

After that, every Slushie, every insult felt justified.

“You shouldn’t have even been born. You’re an abomination,” her grandmother told her one night when she was five or six when she lived with them the first time.

She hadn’t even known what ‘abomination’ meant back then, but she knew by the way her grandmother said it that it was a very bad thing. She always remembered the word and once she learned how to use a dictionary, she looked it up and it hurt to read what her grandmother thought she was. It hurt to be told “you shouldn’t have even been born,” especially by her own grandmother, but her grandmother and grandfather said bad things about her daddies, so she couldn’t respect their opinions _that_ much. She couldn’t even have a picture of her daddy Samuel because every picture of him had been thrown out of her grandparents’ house and they never talked about him except to say bad things about him. But every once in a while she thought she could hear her grandmother crying and saying her daddy’s name. But when she tried to comfort her grandmother, her grandma only got mad and reminded her that she never should have been born, that it was wrong. But she didn’t feel like such a bad person when she had Quinn, Aubrey and their mother visiting her twice a week at the Marion police station.

But falling in love with her adopted sister was confirmation that she really was an abomination. And knowing that Quinn knew she was in love with her really did make her wish she had never been born because it was obvious she never should have been.

If she could make Quinn turn away from her, she knew she must be terrible. She doubted Quinn would have turned her away if she’d been more deserving of Quinn’s affection and love. Quinn was treating her horribly, but she knew she deserved it and Rachel just thought if she just held on, let Quinn punish her for being so bad, then maybe Quinn would forgive her. But forgiveness never seemed to come.


	11. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 7587

Chapter 11

Her grandfather called her one afternoon while she was filming and left her a message on her voicemail. It was succinct: your grandmother died today, the funeral is in two days. He was as brief as she was verbose, but she kind of wish he’d just left the details of what time and where, so that she could just go to the funeral without talking to him. But then again, she was fairly certain that the expectation was for her to pay for the funeral, so she had to call him anyway.

She called her grandfather, got some details, made a few calls to sort things out and then went back to work. She could handle all the arrangements from LA and while she was perfectly willing to pay all the expenses, she didn’t want to deal with her grandfather in person until she absolutely had to. He was pretty robust anyway and she was fairly sure he would outlive _her_.

She finished her scenes and then pulled her director aside and quietly explained she needed to take a couple days off to go to Ohio for a funeral. She got the okay, and left.

\--

Rachel was certain Quinn would find out anyway, since she was dropping in on their parents in Lima after she went to the funeral in Mansfield. But she did so reluctantly, she didn’t think it was any of Quinn’s business.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Rachel said honestly. She didn’t have any strong emotional attachment to either of her grandparents other than regretting they couldn’t have a better relationship. She sent them money every month because they were senior citizens living on a fixed income, but she did it more out of a sense of obligation than a feeling of love.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me? Now I won’t be able to get a cheaper flight,” Quinn complained. “You should have told me when you booked yours.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Where are _you_ going.”

“With you,” Quinn said irritably. Have you gone retarded?”

“Have _you_ gone retarded? Why would you go with me?”

“You don’t want me to go with you?”

“For what?”

Rachel was completely bewildered as to why Quinn could accompany her back to Ohio.

“Oh, wait. Are you going to see Mom and Dad?” Rachel asked.

Quinn clenched her jaw and stared down at the ground for a moment and then raised her gaze again. “Are you being deliberately obtuse or do you really not get why I’d want to go back with you?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “And why would that be?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I want to be there with you. I love you.”

Rachel sighed. Even now when her grandmother had died, Quinn just couldn’t seem to stop trying to fool her. But she was too weary to argue. “Yeah, okay,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

Quinn’s voice broke slightly. “Why won’t you believe me? We’ve been sleeping together for almost a year. I’ve tried to convince you that--”

“Quinn,” Rachel gently cut off. “We both know this relationship is primarily sexual for you, please stop trying to manipulate me into thinking you think it’s anything more. We both know how this works: I’m pathetically in love with you, you use me for whatever it is that you want and then when you get tired of me, you can ignore me or insult me and our status quo is restored.”

Quinn trembled. “You say you love me, but if you think I’m lying to you about this, if you think I have some ulterior motive or some big prank planned, then your opinion of me is just in the dirt.”

Rachel could not refute that.

“You don’t know how much you hurt me. Everything I did was when we were kids. You _know_ you’re hurting me and you won’t stop.”

“Well, Quinn,” Rachel said slowly. “Then leave. I lived without you before and I can do it again.”

“I can’t,” Quinn whispered. “I really do love you. I can’t stop. I _can’t_ live without you. I tried and it was too hard. You keep hurting me, but I can’t leave.”

Rachel smiled ruefully. “ _You_ have no idea how much _you_ hurt me when you tell me you love me when I already know you don’t mean it. You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that, but you don’t know how badly it hurts when someone you love tells you they love you and you know they don’t mean it.”

Quinn gave her a sad smile. “Actually, I do.”

Rachel could feel a headache building. “I think we need to spend this night apart.”

“I think that would be best,” Quinn agreed. “Unless you changed your mind about wanting me to go with you.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? You can’t even conceive of the fact that maybe I don’t want you to come with me because it’ll be better for you if you don’t.”

She tried not to dwell on the past, but that didn’t make it any less painful when it came up. She didn’t know what to expect from her grandfather. She didn’t suffer any delusions he’d changed and become kinder or gentler, and she just didn’t want to take Quinn to that.

“And what makes you think you know what’s good for me?”

Rachel pursed her lips. “I suppose I don’t,” she said after a moment’s pause. “But since they’re _my_ grandparents, you’ll just have to trust me on it,” she said, and it was a concentrated effort to keep her voice level.

Quinn swallowed hard. “I’m sorry they hurt you,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry I made you go back to them twice.”

Rachel clenched her teeth. “You don’t know _anything_ about it, so _don’t_ ever bring it up to me again,” she said softly, but warningly.

Quinn reached for her, but Rachel pulled away.

“I just don’t want you to go back there alone,” Quinn said quietly. “Just let me support you, even if it’s just this once.”

“Just leave me alone,” Rachel whispered. “God, why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Well,” Quinn said softly, a tinge of challenge in her voice. “This is my apartment. If you really want me to leave you alone, you--”

Rachel took the hint and left.

\--

In high school she lived with her grandparents on two separate occasions. The first time, she and her adoptive parents came to a mutual decision that she needed to live somewhere else for a while. The second time, she’d practically begged to go back.

\--

She hadn’t meant to blurt out that she had an abortion. It was a secret she was never planning on telling anyone else, especially not her parents who dragged her to church every Sunday despite the fact she was Jewish.

But their father was so angry with Quinn-- Rachel could feel the heat of his anger on his breath and she was sitting so far away from him. He was being so mean and Rachel just felt the urge to take some of the heat off Quinn.

After all, Quinn was pregnant and being yelled at probably wasn’t healthy for her. Rachel remembered how scared she was when she was pregnant the year before, and she wished she could just tell Quinn that it was going to be okay, but there was a huge difference between keeping a baby and getting rid of it, so Rachel knew she really didn’t know what Quinn was going through. She just felt awful for Quinn because she knew what their family was like and she knew how scary the experience was just in and of itself-- when the two were combined, it was a recipe for terror and anxiety. She found herself really admiring Quinn for keeping the baby because it would have been easier to just have an abortion and pretend like it never happened which is what she chose for herself. When she got pregnant, she never even contemplated keeping it-- she would have killed herself before she kept it.

She just settled for passing Finn and Puck the money she had in her savings account from her job. She knew she could trust them to give it to Quinn, and she also knew there was no way Quinn would take money from her, but Rachel just needed to do something to help her. She’d been saving up to buy a car, but she wasn’t old enough to drive anyway and medical care for Quinn and the baby seemed more important. She knew it wasn’t much, but she also knew that Quinn was stressed out about money and she just hoped that her money would help, even if it was just a little bit.

Their dad just seemed so mad at Quinn, and Quinn had always been his golden girl favorite. She knew it must be bad if their dad was yelling at Quinn like that and she just couldn’t help it-- she blurted her secret out.

Her family’s reaction afterward was very telling-- she got slammed into a table and pushed onto the ground, and then sent away to her grandparents. Quinn was forgiven and allowed to come back into the house. Rachel was amenable to living with her grandparents-- she wanted to get to know her grandparents and they were getting older and allegedly needed some help around the house, which she was glad to do it. But it was just felt like a rejection of her and confirmation that Quinn was their real kid and she was just some stray their mother picked up. Quinn was their golden girl and she was basically a box of bananas that could be passed back and forth at will.

Living with her grandparents was difficult-- they were restrictive and they didn’t trust her, so she didn’t even have a door on her bedroom, it’d been taken off its hinges. They said they were looking for any sign of aberration or deviance inherited from her fathers. Life at home wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t like life in the Fabray house was much better.

But life at Garfield High was so much better than life at McKinley. No one Slushied her or called her names at Garfield. She could walk the halls between classes and not worry about anything other than getting to her next class on time. A few people reached out to her once they realized she’d been on the McKinley glee team and encouraged her to join their glee club. She actually made friends and it was amazing not to feel so lonely and ostracized.

She didn’t want to go back and she _cursed_ the case of laryngitis the vocal coach wouldn’t let her ignore. She’d had earaches and sore throats for as long as she could remember, but she never thought it was a big deal. She’d told her grandfather when she was four that her throat hurt and she was just told to gargle with salt water, quit whining and go to bed. That was exactly what she did.

She didn’t realize that all those earaches and sore throats were actually symptomatic of something a little more serious and when she realized she could permanently lose her voice, she was so afraid even her dreams would be wrenched away from her. She’d lost her fathers, her birth mother had rejected her by then, Quinn had basically denounced her, it was obvious her adoptive family had discarded her and all she had left were those fragile dreams of stardom. If she lost her voice on top of everything else, she would _truly_ be _nothing_.

She went home to Lima for her tonsil surgery and was vaguely disappointed that she couldn’t go back to Mansfield. No one at the Fabrays’ hit her with a slotted spoon when she did something wrong or told her to get into the trunk of the car for her timeout, but no one at Garfield High threw Slushies in her face or insulted her on a daily basis so she thought it was an even trade. And anyway, Quinn had told her that she’d ruined their family and Quinn would know-- it’s not like Rachel had any experience of what their family was like before she was adopted into it. She could fathom they were better off before she came along. She hadn’t wanted to go back to Lima. She was happy at Garfield and she thought her family was better off without her and she was reluctant to return home and disrupt and ruin them more than she already had.

She came home to Lima to Quinn who wouldn’t acknowledge her existence except to denigrate and disparage it, a mother who eyed at her with disappointment, a father who looked at her with contempt and a school where everyone hated her. And even worse, she was offered her old job back at the music store, which was the one place in Lima where she’d been able to make friends, but her father wouldn’t let her take it because she’d disappointed him and abused his trust by slutting around and getting pregnant. She’s barely kissed a boy on her own volition, but she was a slut.

\--

She went into high school when she was thirteen. She was five feet tall and weighed approximately eighty five pounds. She hated being younger, smaller and less developed than everyone else. She thought if she were prettier and more developed like Quinn, Santana and Brittany, then maybe people would finally just ease up on her. She wasn’t looking for friendship or anything-- she’d long given up on that, though she was glad that outside of school, Santana and Brittany were still her friends. She just wanted people not to hurt her feelings all day and throw stuff at her.

She found the Help Wanted sign at Constance Music Center while she was avoiding going home for a while because she knew her mother was at a women’s church group event and Quinn would be the only one home. She tried to avoid Quinn as much as possible, partly because she didn’t want to annoy or anger Quinn more than she already did and partly because she found Quinn terrifying. She was a few weeks away from her fourteenth birthday, and so she begged the owner, Constance, just to hold off and hire her when she turned fourteen.

Constance Logan really had no reason to wait, but for whatever reason, she did and Rachel got her work permit signed and she had a reason to be out of the house a little longer, and a place to go. No one from McKinley came in except for that weird Mr. Ryerson and occasionally Mr. Schuester, the cutie Spanish teacher all the girls had a crush on. He’d sit at the piano and play something or run his hand across a guitar or flip through some sheet music. He never really bought anything and really, Rachel was supposed to call him out on it, but she couldn’t.

There were a few other people working there too, mostly older kids who let her tag along to get-togethers after work and sometimes took her out on the weekends when they weren’t going out somewhere she wasn’t old enough to get into. They tried a few times to sneak her into a few clubs after helping her with her make-up, clothes and a fake ID, and each time the bouncer busted out laughing and told her to come back in twenty years when she was old enough to come in. It was mortifying, but it was nice to have people who would go through such lengths to include her. After their father kicked them out, Quinn had Finn and had a list of people to choose from that she could stay with for a few days. Rachel only had Colin who was a coworker with his own apartment. She didn’t even bother asking Santana or Brittany because she didn’t want to put them in the awkward position of choosing between friendship and popularity. Colin let her stay rent free for a couple months and though she found out he wasn’t as nice as he pretended to be, she was still grateful because she wouldn’t have been able to survive that time without him.

When she was a kid she realized she had to find small pockets of survival and that asking for anything more than that was probably asking for too much. When she was little, her pockets of survival lay in the fact that she would get to see her mother, Quinn and Aubrey twice a week. It didn’t matter how mean her grandparents were to her, or how they made her feel like she couldn’t do anything right or how they could reduce her to tears with just a look. She could count on one hand the next time she’d get to see Mommy, Quinn and Aubrey and everything was okay. In high school, her pockets of survival were the glee club and working at the music store.

After she came back from Mansfield and was offered her old job back, she was giddy. Her job was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise dismal life, but even that was taken away from her because her father refused to sign the work permit.

After that, all she had was glee and glee just wasn’t enough because Quinn was a part of it.

\--

The second time she lived with her grandparents, she’d negotiated it with her parents. She wanted to dissolve the adoption-- it was clear to her by then that her presence did nothing for her family but bring it unneeded and undue stress. She felt like she owed it to her adoptive family to salvage it by giving them an out away from her.

And she’d been desperate to get away from Lima, particularly away from Quinn. Her parents refused to dissolve the adoption, and balked at first when she pleaded to be sent back to Mansfield. But eventually they could see the situation was untenable and of course, they’d chosen Quinn over her, so they agreed to send her back to Mansfield.

Living with her grandparents again wasn’t any better the third time around. She wasn’t a little kid, but she still didn’t have much power. She still didn’t have a door to her room and it was during this time she learned the truth about her adoptive mother-- how Judy had always been in love with her father, Samuel, since middle school and how her mother never really wanted her for her, she was just a piss poor replacement for what she couldn’t have because she kind of looked like him.

But at least school was good again. She rejoined the glee club at Garfield and they welcomed her back with open arms. Everything was under control. She wasn’t popular or anything, but she had people to eat lunch with and no one was calling her any names or accusing her of having a penis. It was enough-- it was enough not to be bullied, to just be left alone. It was enough to do well in school and be able to sing and to have a few friends. It was _enough_.

She didn’t need her grandparents to love her. She knew she was just a glorified maid who cooked and cleaned for them and ran their errands-- and it was okay with her.

Of course, like anything good in her life, it had to come to an end. There was a bad night which would have been like any other night except that the pain in her arm was so fierce, she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. The police were called, she was transported to the hospital and then her mother picked her up and brought her back to Lima.

The night she went back to Lima was the first and only time she’d ever had a fight with a parent. She’d lived most of her life too afraid to defy parental authority. Unlike Aubrey and Quinn who didn’t have to worry about being sent away, she’d always worried that if she got even remotely defiant, she’d be sent away.

She shouted such terrible things at her adoptive mother because she was just so angry about being back and she hoped if she were awful enough, her mother would just send her away. But her mother didn’t send her away and she begged her mother for forgiveness for all the terrible things she said.

\--

The past was dead, and couldn’t be changed, so Rachel didn’t understand the point in dwelling on it. But sometimes, she couldn’t stop and being back in Mansfield for her grandmother’s funeral just made unpleasant things come up-- it was like one of those long-forgotten landmines that exploded and ripped some kid’s arm off forty years after it was buried.

She was sad that her grandmother was dead, but she just started thinking about all sorts of things she didn’t want to think about.

“You’re just a cash cow for that family, you do realize that don’t you?” her grandfather asked her, his voice grim and his mouth in that familiar stern set. “Now those people will never have to worry about retirement because you’ll take care of them. You know that’s the only reason they want you for holidays, don’t you? They took you away from us, but they gave you back any time you were difficult and we took you back because _we_ were your true family.”

“Yes,” Rachel said softly and she very clearly remembered her adoptive father saying, ‘the little one is going to be the one who takes care of Judy and me in our old age.’

Yes, she knew exactly where she stood.

\--

After the funeral, she tidied up her grandparents’ house, made sure her grandfather would have plenty to eat for a while and looked over her grandparents’ bills to make sure all the payments were current. They should be because their bills were deducted from her account, but she wanted to make sure they didn’t have some outstanding debt she wasn’t aware of.

She sent them money once a month, but also deducted their bills out of her checking account each month. Regardless of how they treated her, the fact remained that they were still family and they took her in when she had nowhere else to go. That meant something to her.

She felt bad for her grandfather who genuinely seemed to be grief-stricken. She tried to comfort him the best she could, but really, she’d barely known her grandmother and outside of financial support, she hadn’t really seen her grandparents since she was in high school.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” she said quietly, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder. “She was a good lady.” She didn’t really know that, but it was the sort of thing she was supposed to say.

He shrugged away from her. “And how would you know that?” he spat out.

She tried to appease him, but he was just so upset and grief-stricken. She tried to explain that she’d never chosen the Fabrays over them--it’s not like she had any say in the adoption, and when her parents told her to come home, she had to come home. But he didn’t seem to understand.

She understood what it was like to lose someone, to grieve that loss and to inappropriately take out anger at the unfairness of life onto a convenient target. So she didn’t stop him when he grabbed the nearest object, which was the mop she was using to wipe the kitchen floors, and hit her with the handle. He didn’t have the same strength he used to, and he was elderly and becoming frail, so really, what could she have done? She just let him get it out of his system until he seemed to get tired.

She finished tidying up and then drove to her parents’ house in Lima.

They seemed happy to have her home and she loved them, so she was glad to be there. But she never quite felt like she belonged there.

She knew her mother loved her. She also knew that her mother loved her less than she loved Aubrey and Quinn, but that was okay. Sometimes, she was reasonably certain her father loved her and other times, she thought he just tolerated her presence in his life because he had to. She was pretty sure that most people only tolerated her presence, even though she really did try not to be annoying, but it kind of hurt to think her father only tolerated her, too, even if she was just some adopted kid he never wanted in the first place.

He was the only father she ever knew. She couldn’t remember her birth fathers, she really didn’t even know which of them was her really biological father, though she was reasonably certain it was Samuel. She couldn’t remember them, but she still felt a loyalty to them which would never quite allow her to fully view Russell Fabray as her father, but he was the man who raised her and she loved him. Even after he cheated on her mother, she still felt loyal to him, understood that he was just a man with frailties and weaknesses like anyone else and she deeply understood what it was like to possess frailties and weaknesses.

When her parents were separated, she was forbidden by her mother from seeing him, but she did it anyway, which was one of the few times she ever defied parental authority. Her mother packed her lunches with leftovers from dinners the night before. She wasn’t much interested in food, so she always snuck it to her father before school. Her mother tried to accommodate her vegan diet as much as possible, but she often failed, so she didn’t want it anyway.

She got closer to her father during this time and when he was allowed back in the house, he seemed to soften toward her. ‘

She didn’t think she and her parents were particularly close, but they’d adopted her, raised her and most of the time, they’d supported her when she needed it. How could she ask for more?

After the funeral, she visited her parents and took them out to dinner-- side-stepped her mother’s concerns that she was too skinny and talked about her investments with her father. Then she left after assuring them she would absolutely have a safe journey back home, but she privately thought it was weird to tell a person ‘have a safe trip,’ when they were flying if they weren’t the pilot. It’s not like it was within her control.

She loved her parents and she thought they were overall pretty good to her, but she never quite felt like she belonged in their family or in their home.

It wasn’t their fault, really. It was something in her which could never quite get settled in anywhere. She’d tried for most of her life to just find a place where she felt like she fit, but she’d yet to find that yet.

When she was little and living with her grandparents, it’d been very clear to her that she was an unwanted intrusion to their home and their routines.

When she finally got to move into the Fabray house, everyone tried to make her feel welcome, but she sensed Russell’s reluctance to have her in the home and she just tried to avoid him because of it.

By the time Russell finally seemed like he was okay with having her around and she was finally comfortable with the idea of calling him ‘dad,’ _Quinn_ made it clear she was an unwanted interloper.

Over and over, Rachel could see evidence of the fact that she was just the adopted kid and Quinn was their real kid.

Quinn made no secret of her disdain, but neither of their parents stepped in on her behalf. To be fair, she never asked them to, but she never bothered because she didn’t want to get Quinn in trouble, didn’t want to make Quinn angrier than she already was, and she was fairly certain their parents would never choose her side over Quinn’s anyway. Plus, no one liked a crybaby and Rachel never quite got over her belief that her position in the home was precarious and predicated on good behavior.

After visiting her parents, she dropped in on her birth mother and her birth mother’s adopted kids. She couldn’t think of them as her mother and her siblings, but she had a cordial relationship with them.

She’d met her birth mother while working at Constance’s and though they had a falling out while she was in high school, they were able to patch things up while she was playing Maureen in _RENT_ in London. Shelby had coincidentally been in London with her kids and they were able to meet up. They’d struck up a friendship ever since and she tried to stop in on them any time she visited her parents.

She winced when Christina and David threw their arms around her in a hug. Her grandfather didn’t have the same strength he used to-- he was the man who’d broken her arm _twice_ , but that didn’t mean getting hit with a mop handle was painless.

Shelby pulled her aside. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.”

“You look like you’re in pain.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Shelby hesitated and gingerly gave Rachel a hug. “It’s good to see you,” she said softly. “We really don’t see you enough.”

Rachel relented. “Yeah,” she agreed softly.

She hung out for a while, talking with Shelby as they caught each other up about their lives. She hung out with Christina and David and drew on paper grocery bags and cut out little holes for eyes and put them over their heads. They were probably too old for it-- Christina was eight and David was seven, but she didn’t know how to behave around kids. They were probably just humoring her. David turned his into Bart Simpson while Christina turned hers into a skull-- the kid was demonstrating a morbid interest in death, but Shelby said Christina would probably just grow up to be a doctor. Rachel, of course, turned hers into a princess and Shelby snapped a few pictures and made an off-handed comment about how nice it was to have all her kids under one roof which made Rachel bristle a little, but she chose not to say anything. It was nice to see them, but it was honestly a relief to leave and use having to catch her flight home as an excuse. She’d once put a lot of frail hope into having a relationship with Shelby, but she’d realized that biology didn’t mean much in terms of a family, either. She really had no idea what did.

\--

She went back to LA, and went to the set directly from the airport. She softly thanked everyone who offered condolences. Cast and crew asked her if she was okay, but of course, she was fine. She didn’t really want to explain that she actually wouldn’t miss her grandmother all that much and didn’t really feel her loss-- at all. She was sorry her grandmother died and regretted she would never have a relationship with her, but she wasn’t all that sad her grandmother was gone. She wouldn’t be able to explain it without looking cold, so while she really wanted to tell people to just stop asking if she was okay because she really was, she just smiled at everyone who asked and assured them. It was kind of nice they would be bothered to ask anyway.

Quinn texted her and asked if they could meet for dinner and Rachel agreed to it.

They met at a vegan Thai restaurant in West Hollywood.

“How was the funeral?”

Quinn seemed solemn and subdued.

Rachel shrugged. “It was a funeral.”

“How was your grandfather? How’s he holding up?”

“He seemed sad, of course” Rachel said honestly. “But I don’t know how he’s holding up. He’s pretty tough though and he’s not prone to showing a lot of emotion. He’s kind of withholding that way, actually.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “Is that genetic, do you think?”

Rachel smiled wryly. “Are you saying I’m unemotional? As an actress, I take issue with that.”

Quinn chuckled softly. “Well,” she said softly. “I guess it’s because I remember what you were like when we were kids. You wouldn’t show a lot of emotion either.”

Rachel grinned crookedly. “I think I wore my heart on my sleeve, actually. You know how it was, my heart was always too close to the lining of my coats.”

“Not really,” Quinn said quietly. “You always just put on a happy face.”

“Well, Quinn. You were there. I had a very happy childhood. It was just how I was feeling.”

Rachel wanted to point out that she’d never put on an act with Quinn-- with Quinn, she’d generally been pretty honest with how she felt. But it didn’t seem like the time to bring that up because she could feel a familiar bitterness welling up inside of her and she just wanted to stamp it out.

“Sometimes,” Quinn conceded. “But you were pretty good with the stiff upper lip thing.”

“I should have been British then, I guess.”

“Well, your teeth are too good for that. And you’re too tan.”

“Yeah, and…” Rachel paused and she realized she couldn’t think of any more stereotypes of British people.

“What?” Quinn prompted quietly.

Rachel grinned. “Nothing, I couldn’t think of another stereotype.”

Quinn chuckled. “Oh.” She grinned back. “So you’re really okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about how we left things.”

Rachel hesitated. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

“Can…Can I get dinner tonight? You’re always paying or we split it. You’ve never let me pick up the check. Can I just pay tonight?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Let’s just go Dutch,” Rachel suggested. “That reminds me, I need to call Brit.”

“Why can’t I buy you dinner?” Quinn asked quietly, ignoring Rachel’s attempt to change the subject.

“I can pay for my own dinner, Quinn.”

“I know that,” Quinn said softly. “I’d just like to buy you dinner for a change.”

“Thank-you,” Rachel said. “But really, it’s fine.”

“Why can’t I buy you dinner?”

“It’s fine, Quinn,” Rachel said softly. She smiled at Quinn. “Thank you, but no thank you.”

“But why?” Quinn pressed.

“Because I don’t want to owe you anything,” Rachel snapped bluntly. She was just too weary to hold back.

Quinn blinked. “Oh,” she said quietly. She bit her lip. She was quiet for a few moments. “It’s just dinner, Rachel.”

Rachel shrugged. “I’d just prefer not to go down that road.” She smiled. “It’s sweet and thoughtful of you, but I’d rather you didn’t. I appreciate the fact you want to though-- that means a lot.”

It was silent for a while and then Quinn spoke, her eyes huge and watery.

“You said that this is just primarily sexual for me,” Quinn said quietly, “but you don’t want _anything_ from me, so this is _all_ sexual for you.”

Rachel bowed her head. “It’s not,” she said softly. “I love you, you know that.”

“I love you, too,” Quinn whispered. “Even though you don’t believe me, I love you, too.”

Rachel blinked back tears. Every time Quinn said it, it just hurt a little more. Every time Quinn said it, it made Rachel start to believe it, which hurt worse. “Please just stop,” she whispered. “Stop saying that to me. We both know it’s a lie. Why are you doing this to me?”

“It’s just dinner,” Quinn said quietly. “Your grandma just died and I can’t even count how many times you bought me dinner. Let me just get this one.”

Rachel turned her head away and blinked back tears. “Let’s talk about something else,” she said gruffly. She signaled for their waiter. “And let’s get some of that tea,” she said, her voice coming out a little rougher than she intended. “I mean, since you’re paying and all.”

Quinn smiled at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Why couldn’t she just let Quinn go? She knew Quinn was up to something, she knew she should be running screaming in the other direction, but she just stayed like an idiot.  
\--

After dinner Rachel followed Quinn back to the blonde’s apartment. They were in bed as Quinn undressed her when Rachel heard Quinn gasp.

“What happened to you?” Quinn asked.

Rachel peered down at Quinn and saw that Quinn was pulling up her shirt and starting at the bruises on her torso. She’d kind of forgotten about them. She’d always had a high pain tolerance and the bruises on her torso and back stopped throbbing a few hours after it happened, so she didn’t give it any consideration.

“Oh,” Rachel said softly, putting her hands on the material of her shirt and pulling it down with a yank. “Nothing. It’s okay.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘it’s okay?’ This is not fucking okay!” Quinn said. “What the fuck happened to you? Were you in an accident?”

“Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s okay.”

“Stop saying it’s okay!” Quinn yelled. “It’s not okay!”

“Quinn, calm down.”

“I’m not calming down! Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your business, Quinn.”

Quinn swallowed. “Did your grandfather hit you?” she asked quietly after a long pause.

Rachel’s jaw clenched. “Everyone grieves differently, Quinn.”

Quinn’s eyes became wide and round. “Rachel, you’re an adult! Why the fuck did you let him hit you?! What the hell did he hit you with, a baseball bat?”

Rachel sneered at her. “And what was I supposed to do? Hit my seventy nine year old grandfather?”

“You couldn’t have run away or something?” Quinn snapped.”You just let him hit you?” she demanded. “You aren’t some fucking kid! How could you let him do that to you! How could you be so pathetic?!”

It was quiet for a moment as Quinn’s eyes became huge.

“Rach--”

But Rachel beamed at her, and cut Quinn off before she could proffer any false excuses. “There’s my girl. Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

She’d waited patiently for the Quinn that she knew to make an appearance, and here she finally was. Rachel knew she’d show up sometime.  
\--

Rachel knew she should have just run screaming from Quinn after that. Quinn may have been in her 20’s, but underneath all that maturity and sweet solicitousness was still that vicious teenaged girl.

When Rachel looked back on it, she wondered how she could have been fooled for so long. When they were kids, Quinn was usually sweet to her, but she wasn’t so sweet to other kids. Even when they were little, Quinn exhibited an unusual ability for ruthlessness.

In elementary school, Jacob Ben Israel tormented her by following her around _all_ the time, going so far as to wait for her outside the girls’ bathroom. He chased her across the playground countless times to try to kiss her, and each time, she screamed at him, in tears, “leave me alone!”Mona Kincaid kissed her on the nose behind the cafeteria but pushed her flat on her butt when she informed Mona that only Quinn and their mother could kiss her on the nose.

Rachel knew that Quinn was only trying to defend and protect her, but Quinn got everyone in their elementary school to freeze Jacob Ben Israel and Mona out. Everyone just ignored them like they didn’t exist and seeing Jacob Ben Israel (even if he really was a weird little troll) and Mona looking miserable and eating lunch by themselves made Rachel feel awful. There’d been a few times when she sat next to Mona (never Jacob Ben Israel because even as a nine year old, Rachel was fully aware of the concept of leading someone on) only to be yanked to her feet by Quinn and dragged to their regular table. Quinn never seemed sorry, never seemed to have any regret.

In middle school, Quinn told off anyone who made fun of Rachel for being small and flat (“carpenter’s dream” and “hey, maybe if you put a bra on backwards, it’ll fit better and you’ll finally know what it’s like to own one!”) and never seemed to care how mean or cutting her comments were. She had an uncanny ability to zero in on the thing someone was most self-conscious about-- being overweight, being underweight, acne, being too tall, being too short, being too dark-skinned, being too fair-skinned, too-freckled, large-eyed, small-eyed, etc, and just use that against the other person. It was seriously _uncanny_.

People were afraid of Quinn. Even Santana and Brittany told Rachel that Quinn could be crazy sometimes, and not in a good way. But Rachel was always upset when they said stuff like that and stomped off in numerous occasions in a haze of anger and indignation. In both primary school and middle school, people used to pull her aside and plead with her to call Quinn off their backs and to ask why her sister was such a bitch. “You’re so nice,” people would say to butter her up. “Why is she so mean?” And she’d always scowl at them, but she’d always gently encourage Quinn to lay off Tommy Watkins and Jennie Sherman or whoever.

It was only in retrospect that Rachel was able to clearly see Quinn. When they were kids, she was so blinded by love, adoration and affection. Quinn was the one who kissed her on the nose when she broke her arm the first time to make her feel better. Quinn was the one who crawled into bed with her, rubbed her back, kissed her nose and held her every time she had a bad dream-- which happened pretty frequently when they were kids. Quinn was the one who kept all her whiny crybabyness a secret, waiting patiently for Rachel to finish muffling her cries with her hands over her mouth. As a child, Rachel was certain that if their parents ever found out about it, she’d get dragged out of bed for a cold bath or an hour or two in the car trunk and she was trying not to let that happen. She was _so_ hard to be good and not to be any trouble. Quinn kept her secret, protected her.

Quinn always protected her, until the middle of eighth grade anyway. Quinn’s protection blinded Rachel from seeing who Quinn truly was. Rachel used to think Quinn changed and she used to wait for the old Quinn to come back. But it was only after leaving Lima and having a little more distance so she could think about the whole thing that she realized Quinn didn’t change-- Quinn was exactly who she always was.

Now that they were in their 20’s, it seemed like Quinn had mellowed and matured. She was still a little catty-- sometimes when they were eating dinner, Quinn glanced over at someone’s admittedly abysmal outfit and wonder “what is she thinking?” But Rachel knew that mean girl was lurking beneath the surface because that mean girl had been there from the beginning, she was just too blind to see it. It wasn’t the only thing Quinn was, but for Rachel, it’d always be the biggest part.

She should have run screaming after yet another “pathetic” comment which proved how Quinn really felt about her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn cried one night after Rachel felt better about seeing Quinn again.

Enough to meet up with the blonde again and resume their activities anyway.

“Okay,” Rachel said softly, and it was. It was who she’d always be to Quinn, and really, it was kind of true. What kind of person in their 20’s let their grandfather hit them with a mop like when she was a kid? Quinn had a point and it was difficult to argue against it.

“I didn’t mean it,” Quinn whispered. “It just scared me that you…” she paused. “That someone could hurt you and you don’t think it’s a big deal.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “I find it hilarious that _you_ would say that to me.”

Quinn flinched. “I’m trying to show you that I--”

Rachel cut her off. “I _adore_ you,” she said softly. “Regardless of how you feel or felt about me, I’ve always adored you. But this topic is just off-limits. Don’t _ever_ bring it up to me again.”

“Rachel,” Quinn whispered. “It just…it looks like it really hurts.”

Rachel smiled wryly. “I’m not crippled or anything,” she joked softly. “Don’t worry.” She pressed a quick kiss to Quinn’s lips. “Just forget about it.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

Rachel shrugged. “I’ve always found a way, so I think you could, too.”

“It scares me you think that way,” Quinn said quietly.

“It scares me that you think I’m going to believe you.”

Quinn cried and it just wasn’t fair how bad Rachel felt that Quinn cried when Quinn was the one pretending to love her.

But Quinn came through by not bringing it up again.


	12. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 5363

Chapter 12

Rachel had to admit she was a terrible driver. She was a little inattentive, so she did her best to remedy that. If the drive was short, and by LA standards that was anything under twenty minutes, she tended to drive in total silence to diminish the distractions. She turned her phone on silent so she wouldn’t be distracted by an incoming call or text message (she tended to forget to turn her phone back onto normal mode). She also had _terrible_ spatial skills, which is how she came to be in her mid 20’s and completely unable to parallel park.

Most of the time, she managed to get from point A to point B without crashing into anything or damaging it. Most of the time.

She was running late for work and so she was speeding on the highway. It was four thirty in the morning and so it was hours before the morning rush hour. There were still more cars on the road than there should be at that hour, but Rachel was relishing being able to go 80 miles per hour on the 405 at any hour of the day. But she was going too fast and following too closely when the car in front of her braked abruptly. She slammed on her brakes. She managed not to hit the car in front of her, but she was rear-ended from behind.

She got out and she was fine, as was the other driver. It was just cosmetic damage, and most of it had been to her car. They exchanged insurance information and she went to work without really thinking about it.

She’d completely forgotten about it until she met Quinn for dinner at M Café. The lot was extremely small and shared its space with a Pinkberry, so it was fairly miraculous that Rachel found a space in the lot rather than having to find one on the street, which would undoubtedly had taken her forever considering her complete inability to parallel park. (She also suspected that some of this inability lay in the fact she genuinely could not see where she was going through the rearview mirror which made her suspect that maybe she was too short, but she wasn’t about to start driving in a booster seat.) She recognized Quinn’s car and parked next to it, got out and met Quinn for dinner.

It went well. Well enough that Rachel found herself wistfully wishing what she and Quinn had was real and not part of some plot Quinn was undoubtedly hatching to crush her. Rachel told herself not to get attached and she tried not to, but when Quinn inevitably revealed her true plans, it would be undoubtedly emotionally decimating.

They walked out the restaurant after dinner and Quinn walked Rachel to her car. Quinn went around Rachel’s car to her get to her own and gasped when she saw Rachel’s smashed bumper.

“What happened?!”

Rachel rolled her eyes when she remembered the accident from the morning. She walked to Quinn and stood next to the blonde as they stared at her bumper.

“I got rear-ended.”

“When?!”

“This morning on my way to the set.”

“What happened?”

“I just told you,” Rachel said impatiently. “I got rear-ended.”

“Are you okay?”

Rachel grinned at her. “I’m disfigured and crippled.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Seriously.”

“Seriously, I’m disfigured and crippled. Can’t you tell?”

Quinn smiled at her. “You hide it well.”

Rachel smiled back. “Thanks”

Quinn hesitated. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You really weren’t hurt?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed, Quinn?”

Quinn flinched. “I’m trying to be your friend again,” she said. “You don’t have to be such a bitch to me.”

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. “Then maybe you should stop pretending like you care about me and just tell me what you want from me.”

Quinn bit the inside of her cheek. She paused for a moment, opened her mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it and took a deep breath. “If you don’t believe I care about you, even a little, why are you sleeping with me?”

Rachel chuckled. “It’s a fair question, Quinn, and one I’m perfectly willing to answer. First of all, I want to. I’ve wanted to since we were kids. Secondly, because as pathetic as this makes me, I do love you and I always have. I’m only telling you this because it’s never been a secret how I feel about you, so you were aware of this anyway.”

“I love you, too, you know.”

Rachel clenched her jaw, suppressing the urge to slap the blonde. But she could never do it. Just the fact she wanted to slap Quinn horrified her. “I’m not so pathetic that I’d actually believe you.” She turned to walk away but was stopped by Quinn’s hand curling around her left bicep.

“Why do you think I’m sleeping with you?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel smiled bitterly. “To fuck me _and_ fuck _with_ me at the same time, Quinn. What else?”

Quinn flinched and released Rachel’s arm. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been waiting and I’ve tried to make you understand, but I don’t know what else to do. What can I do?”

“Don’t do anything,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not going to believe you. All we’re really doing is passing the time with each other. You know this.”

Rachel left Quinn standing there.

\--

Six hours later, Rachel woke up at 3am to her phone buzzing. She looked at the caller ID. It was Quinn.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked, concerned. Quinn had never called her this late before.

“Could you come over?” Quinn asked quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…just….could you come over?”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Quinn said, her voice small

Rachel hung up, laid back in bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment, before she sighed and got out of bed.

She drove to Quinn’s apartment and knocked on the door. Quinn answered a few moments later, looking a little subdued.

“Hi,” Quinn breathed.

“Hi,” Rachel said, peering at Quinn with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just…” Quinn pulled Rachel inside and shut the door. She wrapped her arms around Rachel and held onto her. Quinn rested her chin on Rachel’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, stroking Quinn’s hair. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Quinn mumbled. “Just…just come to bed, okay?” She broke the hug and took Rachel by the hand, leading her to the bedroom.

“Okay,” Rachel said softly, allowing herself to be pulled into the bedroom.

Rachel crawled into bed next to Quinn. Quinn burrowed herself next to Rachel. Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, alarmed.

“I had a bad dream,” Quinn confessed.

Rachel paused. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Well, I know what that’s like. I’m sorry you had a bad dream.”

“I had a bad dream about you.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “Well… sorry about that,” she said, unsure of what there was to say.

“You don’t know what you looked like after the accident,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel froze. “Excuse me?”

“Your whole face…” Quinn’s voice caught. “The doctors called it severe bruising. But your entire face…it was just _purple_ and black. Your eyes were swollen shut-- even if you were conscious, I don’t think you would have been able to open them. I couldn’t recognize you at first.”

“I think that was probably from the airbag or something.” She remembered clawing at it, in her desperation to get out of the car. She’d slammed her head repeatedly against the passenger side window hoping to break through it, despite the fact she was trapped by her seatbelt. She couldn’t think. She just needed to get away and she’d been consumed by panicked desperation.

“Aubrey told me you were brain dead,” Quinn whispered. “That day, before we could get to you, Aubrey told me it was too late for you, that you were already brain dead. The hospital gave her Emily’s information instead of yours or something, but the whole time I drove there, I kept thinking how it was too late.”

“Okay…”

“When I thought you were gone, I just wanted to die,” Quinn whispered.

Rachel didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent.

“I just want us to get better, Rachel,” Quinn whispered. “I know it’s too much to ask that you forgive me for everything, but you won’t even believe I _care_ about you. I feel like you’re just with me to punish me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Quinn said. “What can I do to make you believe me?”

Rachel couldn’t answer for a few minutes. When she finally found her voice, it was weak. “It’s just too late,” Rachel said weakly. “You remind me of everything bad in my life. I just… I don’t think I ever can believe you. I want to, you have no idea how much I want to believe you, but I don’t.”

“Just…I… I mean, is there anything I can do to make you trust me? So that you’d believe me?”

Rachel shook her head. “I think…I think we need to stop,” she said weakly. “I feel like we’ve been playing a game of chicken. You win, Quinn. I don’t want to play anymore. You win. This thing between us ends.”

Quinn swallowed audibly. “This isn’t a game for me,” she said quietly. “I love you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Stop it.”

“We were both four, but I’d been four for eight months. You just turned four. It was maybe one o’clock, maybe one thirty. You were wearing a purple shirt and blue jeans. You were crying and all I wanted to do was to make you stop. Not because it bothered me,” Quinn added hastily. “I just…all I wanted to do was to make it stop hurting.”

“Stop it,” Rachel hissed, sitting up in the bed. “Shut up! Don’t you dare bring that day up!”

“Just...just let me say this,” Quinn said quietly. “If this is the end, then I need to say this because I’ve tried so hard to prove to you that I love you and--”

“You _don’t_ , so stop lying!”

“No!” Quinn exclaimed, sitting up as well. She turned on the light on her nightstand. “Listen to me! I’ve been walking on eggshells around you for _months_ and I can’t do this anymore either! I’ve loved you since we were four, Rachel. And I know I screwed it all up. I know I ruined everything and I will _always_ regret that. I know I hurt you. I know that you don’t believe me when I say I love you and that’s all my fault. I hate everything I did to you. I hate it when I think about it. I hate that we could have been at least friends and now all we do is fuck and occasionally have dinner. But you’re an asshole if you think that I’m still the same person I was when I was thirteen. You’re my _sister_. It scared me that I wanted you so badly. I knew it was wrong. I couldn’t handle it. I _still_ can’t handle it. I _know_ I was awful to you for years, but I was a _kid_ then. I know it’s not an excuse, but you’re an _asshole_ if you think I’ve been doing this with you for all this time because I’m trying to hurt you like when we were kids. I love you and I’m sick of you not believing me.”

Rachel scoffed softly. She’d loved Quinn since they were four, too, and her feelings for Quinn were scary, too, but she didn’t feel the urge to hurt Quinn to push those feelings away. Not only did Quinn hurt her, but she sent _other_ people to hurt her, too. What the _fuck_ was that.

“Stop it!” Quinn snapped. “Stop making that sound!” she demanded, imitating Rachel’s scoff. “Don’t dismiss me!”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Do you remember that party you threw at our house freshman year when mom and dad went away?”

Quinn flinched, seemingly confused by the abrupt change in subject matter. “Yes.”

Rachel leaned in close. “I don’t even remember who they were. But I remember them holding me down,” she whispered, raising a hand to gently cup Quinn’s cheek. Quinn flinched.

“Rachel,” Quinn whispered.

“They held me down,” Rachel said. “I tried to fight them, but there were so many of them…” Rachel trailed off weakly and she shuddered slightly at the memory. “They put this pill in my mouth and made me swallow it,” she remembered. “Someone poured their beer on me.”

“Rachel, stop,” Quinn pleaded weakly.

“I couldn’t fight them anymore,” Rachel said softly. “Then they made me…they…” she swallowed hard. “I don’t even remember who did what.” She gave Quinn a small smile. “But you know what I remember most?” she asked softly, caressing Quinn’s cheek. She leaned in close and brushed her lips against Quinn’s ear. “He leaned down and he told me **you** sent them, and of course, you must have, because everyone was too afraid of you to ever do anything you didn’t approve of, so there’s no way anyone would have come upstairs without _your_ explicit permission.”

Quinn stared at her in mute horror.

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Bet you didn’t know that I know, did you?”

“You…you think I…you think I..I…I…” Quinn stuttered, too horrified to complete a sentence.

“You couldn’t just fuck me then, could you? So you sent other people to do it for you. Did you ask for details? Do you still keep in touch? Are you trading details? Are you letting them know how much of a better fuck I am now than I was back then?”

Quinn’s eyes were wide and teary. “Stop,” she begged. “Please, stop.”

“I know I’m not worth a whole lot,” Rachel said quietly. “But I have to believe I deserve more than someone who claims she loves me but sent six people to fuck me against my will. So forgive me for not believing you. Actually, no. Fuck you, Quinn.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I didn’t do that,” she said quietly. “I would never have done that!”

“Then how’d you know when to come in? How long were you watching it? Did you get off on it?”

Quinn gagged, barely suppressing the need to throw up. “I went upstairs to use the bathroom,” she said quietly. “The downstairs ones were disgusting. I went up to use our bathroom and I heard….I heard sounds from your room. It…it just seemed wrong, so I went to check and I saw…I saw what they were doing,” she whispered.

Rachel laughed darkly. “So, you didn’t send them to rape me, you’re actually my hero? That’s pretty convenient.”

“I didn’t send them,” Quinn said quietly. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Rachel chuckled. “I guess that makes sense,” she said. “I mean, then they’d know I didn’t actually have a penis and that would take all the mystique out of calling me Tranny.” Her face hardened. “How stupid and naïve do you think I am?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I didn’t do that. I was capable of a lot of things-- you know that. But I wouldn’t have done that to you or anyone else. But least of all you. I…I wanted you to myself. I didn’t want anyone else to touch you. I wanted to kill myself after it happened. I couldn’t stand that it happened to you,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it,” she repeated in a whisper.

“You and me both,” Rachel said with a humorless laugh. “Although frankly, I think it hurt me a lot more than it hurt you. Did you get to see the video footage? Do you still have it? I bet you could get money for it now. I’m sure there’s a website that would be willing to buy it. I just ask that you split the profit with me, you know, considering it was me that was the human toilet.”

“I always knew it was my fault,” Quinn whispered. “I knew what they did to you was my fault, that if I hadn’t called you all those names they wouldn’t have…” she trailed off. “But I didn’t know you believed I sent them after you. I didn’t know you thought I was capable of that.”

“I think you’re capable of anything.”

“You must really hate me,” Quinn whispered hoarsely.

Rachel laughed ruefully. “That’s just the thing. I really don’t. Even with all that, I don’t.”

“Then believe me when I tell you I didn’t send those people after you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I can’t,” Rachel whispered.

She wanted to, but it just seemed too unbelievable. Quinn was the undisputed ruler of McKinley-- she was in charge. No one would have done something like that in their house without Quinn’s approval. It just didn’t make any sense.

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t such an awful person that I could have done something like that,” Quinn said, her voice trembling. “I know I was terrible, but that…that crosses a line. I couldn’t have crossed it. I couldn’t do that to you. I was a terrible person, and I was awful to you. But I wasn’t so _evil_ that I could have done something like that to you,” Quinn said.

Rachel faltered. “I…I never thought you were _evil_ ,” she said quietly. “I…I just…” she hung her head. “I should go,” she said, moving to leave.

Quinn reached out and took Rachel by the arm. She withdrew when Rachel flinched. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t go. Can’t we talk about this?”

Rachel sighed raggedly. “What is there to talk about?”

“Do you really believe I could be capable of something like that?” Quinn asked, in tears. “I know I’m not the nicest person. I know I did horrible things to you. I know I treat people like shit in general, but do you really think I could be capable of _that_? Do you really believe that?”

Rachel swallowed hard, staring into Quinn’s pleading face. “I…I…” her voice cracked.

Quinn had once been her greatest protector and then her biggest tormentor. And while it hurt to be Slushied and insulted, there was a big differences between hurling a few epithets and Slushies and sending people to rape her. Quinn had a bitchy, ruthless streak but…she wasn’t _evil_.

She desperately wanted to believe that Quinn was telling the truth.

“You…you really didn’t send them?” Rachel asked quietly.

“ _No_ ,” Quinn whispered, her voice cracking. She wiped at her eyes, tears falling uncontrolled. “ _No_. Never.”

Rachel pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face into her kneecaps. She covered her head with her arms. She didn’t know how to handle this. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears spill out. She’d believed this for over ten years and now Quinn was telling her she’d been wrong the whole time. It seemed too much to hope for, but it was shattering all the same. It just seemed to change everything and now she didn’t know what to believe.

“Rachel?” Quinn whispered. She sounded scared.

Rachel tried to curl up as tightly as she could. She wished she could curl up so tight, she could just shrink and disappear.

“Rachel?” Quinn repeated. She still sounded scared.

Rachel couldn’t respond. She was overwhelmed.

“Rachel?”

Rachel didn’t respond and Quinn didn’t say anything for a while.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat just curled up like that, but finally, she sniffed and raised her head and moved her stiff, sore limbs.

“Rachel,” Quinn said hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Rachel said quietly. “Are you?”

“I think so.” Quinn was still teary. “Do you believe me about…?” she trailed off.

Rachel swallowed hard. “I think so,” she said softly. “Tell me again you didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t,” Quinn whispered. “I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

Rachel wiped at her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay?”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“So….you believe me? Really?”

She swallowed hard. “I think so,” Rachel said. “I…I….I don’t know what to believe,” she said haltingly, “but I want to…I think I believe you.”

Quinn smiled tremulously. “Okay,” she said with cautious hope. Her eyes quickly filled with tears and the sobs wracked her body with a suddenness and viciousness that took Rachel by surprise.

Rachel quickly wrapped her arms around Quinn in a hug. “Don’t cry,” she pleaded, though she was crying a little herself. “Don’t cry,” she begged. “Please don’t cry, baby. Baby, don’t cry. Please. Please, don’t cry.” She pressed soft kisses to Quinn’s cheeks, the top of her head, into her hair. “Please don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. It’ll be okay. It’s going to be fine. Please. Please don’t cry.”

Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel’s neck and buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder and sobbed.

Rachel stroked her hair. “There, there,” she whispered. “Don’t cry, baby, okay? Please don’t cry.” She continued to stroke Quinn’s hair. “There, there, baby.”

\--

When she woke up, she was so entangled with Quinn, it took her a few moments to pull herself away. The lamp was still on and she glanced at the clock to see that she needed to leave or she was going to be late. She’d never been late for a rehearsal or to shoot before. Today seemed like a good day to be late or to call in sick, but she needed the distraction and some space.

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly, gently shaking the blonde awake.

Quinn stirred. “Rach?”

“I have to go. I--”

Quinn’s eyes widened and she sat up. “What? Why? I thought--”

“Quinn,” Rachel interrupted gently. “We both have to go to work. And I don’t know about you, but I sort of welcome the distraction.”

Quinn calmed. “Oh,” she said quietly. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t think I can go in today. I’m going to call in sick.”

“I have to go,” Rachel said apologetically. “But…let’s meet up later tonight.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “Come over. I’ll cook for you.”

Rachel gave her a slight smile. “You will?”

“I bought a vegan cookbook when you first came out here to audition,” Quinn admitted quietly. “I always hoped I’d get to use it for you.”

\--

It was a big day of filming for her, and one that she had dreaded since the table read.

Her character, Lucy, is held down under water in an attempted drowning by another character who is revealed to be the secret villain. Her character is saved, of course, and Rachel knew she was in no danger of drowning, but the prospect still terrified her.

“Seriously,” Santana said when Rachel told her about it when she first got the script. “What sort of fucking masochist are you? The retarded kind?”

“Well, it’s for the show, and it’s not like I’m in any real danger of drowning.”

“You’re a fucking masochist. You know you can pay someone to spank you or drip hot wax on you. You know this, right? You don’t have to have your fucking head held under water for your job!”

“As thrilling as the prospect of having a stranger spank me or drip hot wax on me is, I must respectfully reject your politely offered suggestion, though I would be happy to consider it if such a need arises for it in the future,” Rachel said dryly.

“Fucking Rachel,” Santana swore. “Why does it have to be drowning? Why can’t you get shot or stabbed or something? Or like, run off the road.”

“You could be in a coma,” Brittany added, picking up the phone mid-conversation. “Comas are always better on TV than in real life. Your real coma was no fun for anyone.”

“I don’t want to play someone in a coma,” Rachel exclaimed. She was oddly offended by the suggestion that her character be shot, stabbed or run off the road. “The writers wrote it that way, I had nothing to do with it.”

“And, what?” Santana said. “You couldn’t say maybe let them know that you almost drowned a few years ago and you spent weeks in a coma and that you’ve always been afraid of water? Trying to drown you was that integral to the script?”

“This is my first TV show. I’m not trying to earn a reputation for being a diva.”

“Rachel, you won a fucking Tony and a Drama Desk Award. Go ahead and be a fucking diva. Throw things at your assistant’s head, shoplift and ask ‘do you know who I am’ when you get caught or stop wearing underwear under those short skirts of yours and flash the paparazzi your girl parts. At the very least, _ask_ if you could maybe not have to go through one of your worst fears again!”

“It’ll be very controlled, so--”

“Poisoning,” Brittany said suddenly.

“What?” Rachel asked blankly.

“You could be poisoned instead of drowned. That might be more fun for you to play than drowning. You could be all…” Brittany trailed off and started making gagging and choking noises. Even though they were on the phone, Rachel knew Brittany was making her eyes bug out and had her hands to her throat.

Where did Brittany come up with this stuff?

There was a few moments of bewildered silence from Santana and Rachel as Brittany continued to make choking noises.

“Right,” Santana said finally. “You could be poisoned.”

But Rachel never brought it up to anyone and never tried to get the script changed. She didn’t tell anyone she was terrified about filming and tried not to give any evidence of her trepidation.

It said a lot about how rough her night had been that the talk with Quinn was harder for her than having her head shoved into water and held down. Her heart race and her character’s terrified, desperate attempt was all too real. Mercifully, they got it all in one take, and she didn’t panic like she thought she would. Afterward, she was able to hug her costar, Josh, as they apologized to one another-- he for holding her down under water, and she for unintentionally landing a blow to his head while she ‘struggled’ to free herself.

It took her the rest of the day to calm her jitters, however, and by the time she left the set, she was more unnerved by the experience than the talk with Quinn the night before.

She hit a rabbit as she drove on the freeway en route to Quinn’s apartment. She wondered if it was a sign.

\--

She was utterly freaked out when Quinn opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, alarmed before Rachel had even uttered a word.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.”

“What?!”

“I hit a rabbit!” Rachel yelped.

“What? When?!”

“On my way here! I was driving on 101 and this rabbit ran out of nowhere! I saw the car in front of me swerve, but I couldn’t because there were cars on both sides of me! I ran over it!”

Quinn stared at her, eyes wide.

“Then I looked in my rearview and I saw it…” Rachel rolled her hands into a tumbling motion.

Quinn’s eyes were enormous. “Did you get rabbit guts on your car?”

Rachel cringed. “I don’t know! I was too afraid to look.” She looked contemplative. “What do I do? Call Animal Control and tell them I killed a rabbit? He tumbled away! I don’t even know where he went!”

Quinn bit her lip, stared at Rachel and began to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said, wheezing with laughter. “But that’s hilarious.”

Rachel pouted. “No, it’s not.”

“God, you’re cute,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel’s expression was wry. “Because I’m a terrible driver?”

“You really are,” Quinn said with a nod. “But just..I mean, _Animal Control_?”

Rachel shrugged. “Well?! It’s a health hazard and a road menace!”

Quinn bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, yes it is.” She smiled at Rachel. “Stay here. Let me get a flashlight and I’ll check to see if you have rabbit guts on your car.”

Rachel cringed. “Oh God.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Quinn returned twenty minutes later-- she must have been really thorough. “All clear. You’re good.”

“Good,” Rachel said relieved. “Thank you,” she said and she couldn’t help but feel the rush of affection because Quinn could not have enjoyed scrambling around in the dark looking for rabbit guts.

Maybe it really was love.

“You’re welcome,” Quinn said softly. “Let’s sit down and eat.”

“Okay.”

\--

Dinner was quiet which was simultaneously expected and unexpected. They ate mostly in silence once Rachel finished her effusive praise for Quinn’s cooking.

Rachel washed the dishes while Quinn watched TV. Quinn’s dishwasher was broken, so Rachel washed them by hand and was glad for it, because she’d wanted to put off the conversation as long as possible.

But she couldn’t push it off any longer because even housework had a natural conclusion.

“What are we going to do?” Quinn whispered.

“I don’t know,” Rachel responded quietly

It just seemed so hopeless and bleak.

Their relationship was completely inappropriate. They were sisters. Their parents would probably have dual heart attacks or aneurysms. Their sister would be horrified. Her grandfather would probably come all the way from Mansfield to murder her, all of his suspicions about her being a perverted degenerate abomination confirmed. And God, what would the people they know think? They’d grown up together. It would never be easy. Legally, they were sisters. They both had the same last name even if she did go by Berry professionally. But she signed all her checks “Rachel Fabray” and it read ‘Rachel Berry-Fabray’ on her driver’s license.

She was a public figure, so even if they could tell their friends and family about their relationship, there would sure to be outcry if their relationship were ever made public. Her private life was scrutinized, _she_ was scrutinized and she knew that neither she nor Quinn would come out looking good if their relationship were revealed.

And what about Quinn? She’d worked hard to get that job-- if their relationship ever came to light, Quinn would have to deal with her coworkers and maybe her career would be ruined, too. What good was an MBA when the holder of the MBA was known for fucking her sister?

And aside from basic things like the opinions of the people in their lives and the public, there was the more pressing concern that Rachel didn’t really trust Quinn. Granted she trusted Quinn a little more now than she did the day before, but she still didn’t fully trust Quinn and wasn’t sure she ever would. If what Quinn told her was true, that all of Quinn’s insults and hurtful actions had been the result of an attempt on Quinn’s part to push away feelings of love, then really, how would it ever be safe to be around Quinn? What would happen the next time Quinn panicked? They were adults now and Rachel had much more to lose-- Quinn could do much more damage to her now. Slushies and insults hurt, but Quinn could go to the media or makes some very private things public. She didn’t want to believe Quinn was capable of that, but she wasn’t sure.

“Do you want to stop?” Quinn asked. “Before we get in over our heads?”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…but…do you want to stop?”

Rachel sighed. “No,” she admitted in a whisper. “Do you?”

“No,” Quinn replied softly. She looked like she was going to cry. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think we’ll be better?” Quinn asked hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Rachel murmured.

“Do you think we’re going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn seemed to deflate. “Okay,” she muttered, head bowing.

Rachel reached for Quinn’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Let’s try though, okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard and squeezed back. “Okay.”


	13. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 5060

Chapter 13

  
Rachel really had no idea how to make things better or to make things okay, but she started by trying not to be derisive any time Quinn said ‘I love you.’ It was a difficult habit to break-- she had to bite her lip to stop herself from telling Quinn to stop lying or from saying “no, you don’t.”

She felt pretty terrible about all those times she’d been so dismissive. She remembered the looks on Quinn’s face every time that happened and she felt terrible because now she thought she’d genuinely hurt Quinn, that Quinn wasn’t just putting on an act.

It was felt too good to be true-- it was like having her best friend back, like the Quinn she remembered loving her and protecting her had come back to her. She was still afraid of Quinn sometimes-- the blonde was sweet to her, but Quinn still seemed so frightening. She still couldn’t help wince every time they ate together and Quinn reached for her beverage. Quinn spent so many years intimidating her that Rachel couldn’t seem to stop being intimidated-- even though she was trying not to be

Things between them felt fragile.

“Mom called me today,” one would tell the other and though they could talk about it without any obvious discomfort or awkwardness, that unspoken _My God, we have the same mother_ hung in the air between them.

There were always reminders.

They avoided talking about their negative history and instead chose to reminisce about the better days of their childhood, but even that was a glaring reminder of the fact they were raised as siblings.

It was inescapable.

They didn’t talk about it, but it was there, pressing down on them and they knew they had to talk about it sometime.

They rarely went out in public, except to restaurants and even then they got a lot of take-aways. They were physical with one another and they didn’t want some absent-minded gesture to be photographed and their relationship exposed. It used to be easier to be out in public together when they were both so self-conscious around one another, and their relationship wasn’t casual or comfortable enough where they might reveal themselves in public.

Now they were more casual with one another, touching and reaching for one another almost absentmindedly which had its good and bad points.

The specter of what they were going to do always hovered unspoken between them, so they just tried to enjoy what they had while they could. Rachel wondered what would happen between them, how they could possibly make this work. It was destined not to, and yet, she couldn’t stop even knowing that in the end, both their hearts would break.

\--

She and her costars appeared for a group interview on _Ellen_ where the topic of high school came up. Everyone went around and talked a little bit about his or her experience. When it was finally her turn she put on her best smile. “Well,” she said. “It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad.”

Thomas put his arm around her and pulled her in close. “That probably just means you didn’t make Homecoming Queen, you just made Homecoming Court.”

He and everyone else laughed and she chuckled and slapped his shoulder.

Later when she and Quinn watched the interview together after it’d been TiVo’ed, Rachel chuckled once she saw herself make the comment.

_Well, it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad.”_

“Hey,” Rachel said. “That’s kind of like us.”

Quinn wasn’t amused.

\--  
Rachel had long-been accustomed to cutting Quinn out of even the most basic parts of her life. It was a habit she found difficult to break even after she became a little more confident that Quinn wasn’t out to hurt her.

When her biological mother came to visit with her kids, Rachel never intended to omit telling Quinn, it was just that she was long out of practice of telling Quinn everything. In fact, it became a natural inclination to keep as much from Quinn as possible in an effort to keep Quinn secluded to one distinct part of her life.

But she didn’t mean to keep doing it-- she was trying to keep Quinn a little more informed of her life, however, habits were difficult to break even though she’d tried for months. She was getting better at it, but it was still an _effort_ and not in any way instinctual.

“What do you want to have for dinner?” Quinn asked one day while they spoke on the phone.

“Oh, I can’t tonight.”

Quinn paused. “Why not? I thought you said it was an early day for you.”

“It is. But I already have dinner plans. My biological mom is in LA with her kids and I’m meeting them for dinner. They went to Disneyland today.” The moment she said it, she winced as she realized that she’d never mentioned it to Quinn even though Shelby had been in town for three days and she’d seen them a couple times.

Quinn was quiet for a long moment before she managed to speak. “What?”

Rachel let out a little groan. “My biological mom and her kids are in LA and I’m having dinner with them,” she said quietly and somberly, as though she were confessing to a crime or infidelity.

“How long have they been here?”

“Three days.”

“Is tonight the first night you’re going to see them since they’ve been here?”

“No,” Rachel admitted quietly. “I picked them up from LAX.”

“Oh.”

Rachel was hesitant. “Do…do you want to meet them? Christina and David are good kids and…”

“Why would I want to go when you clearly don’t want me there?” Quinn asked bitterly.

Rachel sighed. “Don’t turn this into something bigger than it is. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Why do you get to decide what is or isn’t a big deal?”

“I…sorry.”

“You still don’t trust me.”

It was a statement.

Rachel flinched. “It’s taking some getting used to,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Quinn said softly.

They were quiet for a long time, neither of them speaking, but breathing.

“I didn’t even know you were in touch with her,” Quinn said quietly. “I remember you mentioning something to Mom and Dad in high school but I don’t know anything about her. What do you call her? Do you call her ‘mom’?”

“I only call Mom ‘mom,’” Rachel said softly. “I call her Shelby.”

“What is that?” Quinn said. “Some nickname that’s just between the two of you or something?”

Rachel snorted. “It’s her _name_ Quinn. Her name is Shelby. Shelby Corcoran.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. She paused. “Oh! Right.” She giggled softly. “Duh.”

Rachel laughed gently. “Yeah. Her kids are Christina and David.”

“So you have a brother and another sister…”

“I don’t really look at them that way,” she said quietly. “I mean, she told them she was my mom, but I don’t…I don’t feel that connection to them. They’re good kids, but…” Rachel trailed off.

“So can I crash your dinner with them?”

Rachel chuckled. “Of course. I’ll pick you up.”

\--

Her relationship with Shelby was complicated, but it’d entered into a stage where it was, at the very least, comfortable.

She first met Shelby when she was fourteen and working at Constance’s Music Center. Shelby came at least once every two weeks to rifle through sheet music

\--

“That woman is here again,” Colin whispered in Rachel’s ear as he came up next to her. He put his hand on her back as he leaned in close. “The one who is always staring at you. I think she has the hots for you.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t stare. She just comes in, buys her sheet music and leaves. You’re the one who creates these lurid scenarios.”

“You guys look a lot alike, you could almost be related.”

Rachel scoffed. “We look nothing alike, Colin.”

“Are you blind?”

“I have very good eyesight. My optometrist said I have 20/20 vision at my last eye exam and that was last month. I doubt anything other than some sort of trauma would have caused such a dramatic change.”

He blinked. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell when you’re being sarcastic and when you’re being serious.”

She gave him a lopsided smile. “I was being sarcastic.”

He ruffled her hair. “You’re a strange kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re fourteen, you’ve barely started wiping your own butt,” he teased, slapping her on the butt and then wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close.

She scowled at him and pushed him away. “That is a gross exaggeration and by gross I mean--”

“I know what you mean,” he interrupted with a grin. He wrapped both his arms around her waist “You mean it both in the--”

“I’ll get these.”

Colin and Rachel were interrupted as the dark-haired woman arrived at the register.

Rachel smiled at the woman and then edged Colin away. “I’ll do this. You…go somewhere else.”

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll continue this battle of semantics later.”

“You’ll lose.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said with a chuckle

Rachel smiled at the woman again. “You’re Ms. Corcoran, right?”

She’d been a regular at the store even before Rachel started working there and Rachel had helped her a few times and had looked at the name on the credit card.

She smiled. “Yes, but call me Shelby. You’re Rachel.”

Rachel chuckled and pointed at her name badge. “Yes.” She started to ring up Shelby’s order.

“Aren’t you a little young to be working? How old are you?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “I’m fourteen which is the legal age to work in the state of Ohio via work permit,” she said dryly. She finished ringing Shelby up, gave Shelby her total, took the proffered cash and put Shelby’s selected sheet music into a protective sleeve. She grinned at Shelby. “Why do you buy so much sheet music anyway? Are you a music teacher?” She asked as she slipped it into a bag and passed it to the dark-haired woman.

“English,” Shelby said. “But I’m the coach for Vocal Adrenaline which--”

“Oh, the glee team at Carmel,” Rachel said, impressed. “You guys are great.”

“You follow show choir?”

“I go to McKinley.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “We have a very small glee club, they’re too small to compete. The teacher who runs it is…” she trailed off, not wanting to tell this adult that she found another teacher creepy. Teachers probably had some sense of camaraderie and solidarity even if they didn’t teach at the same school. “We do not get along. But I like following what they do.”

“Do you sing?”

“I’m just okay.”

“She’s great,” Aubrey interrupted, sidling up to the counter after coming into the store. “She’s been singing since she was little. Come on, shrimp. Mom wanted me to pick you up. She thinks you’re going to get kidnapped and beheaded riding the bus.”

Rachel grinned at her and rolled her eyes. “Mom thinks I’ll break my neck walking down the stairs.” She smiled at Shelby. “This is my sister, Aubrey.”

Shelby smiled, but she also looked a little startled. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Aubrey said. “Come on, shrimp. You were supposed to be done twenty minutes ago.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. She beamed at Shelby. “Thanks for coming in today,” she said. “I hope we’ll see you soon.” She looked apologetic. “It’s my sister’s last night here before she has to go back to school, so my parents want me home. I need to go.”

Shelby nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Rachel smiled again and then ran out behind the counter after grabbing her backpack. “I don’t see what the fuss is,” she said, bumping up against Aubrey. “You come home every couple months anyway, it’s not like you moved out of the country,” she joked. “I don’t even get a chance to miss you!”

Aubrey smiled, amused. “Come on, shrimp,” she said, giving Rachel a pinch on the arm. “Let’s go,” she said affectionately putting her arm around Rachel and leading her out. “You know how much I love midgets.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t be like that, little person. I want to spend some time with you.”

Aubrey glanced back to stare at Shelby for a long moment just before they left. She pulled Rachel a little closer as they exited.

\--

Rachel continued to see Shelby fairly regularly, and she looked forward to their talks. Shelby talked to her about coaching Vocal Adrenaline and Rachel talked about being too creeped out by Mr. Ryerson to join the McKinley glee team. Mr. Ryerson came in once while Shelby was there and she quickly agreed that she thought Mr. Ryerson was creepy, too, which made Rachel feel vindicated.

“Don’t teachers have some sense of solidarity?” Rachel joked. “Won’t you get in trouble for speaking ill of another teacher?”

“ _I_ didn’t speak ill of another teacher,” Shelby said with a grin. “I was only agreeing with your assessment.”

Rachel burst into genuinely amused laughter and Shelby laughed as well.

\--

“You’re very talented,” Shelby told her one day when she dropped by the music store to find Rachel accompanying her coworker, Mindy, on the piano while Mindy played the guitar. She and Mindy put on a little show and their voices were well-matched as they sang.

“Thank you,” Rachel said with a grin.

After that, Shelby joined in any time Rachel sang at the store.

\--

They talked pretty steadily for a few months and were idly chatting one day when Constance plopped her paycheck in front her. “Here you go, Rachel Barbra Berry-Fabray,” she said. “For someone so little, you really do have a big name.”

Rachel smiled. “I can always shorten it.”

“You’ll have to, your name is bigger than you are.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said dryly.

“You said your last name is Fabray,” Shelby said softly once Constance walked away. “I thought it was _just_ Fabray.”

“My last name _is_ Fabray,” Rachel said. “It’s Berry-Fabray, but I usually just say it’s Fabray. It’s easier.”\

Shelby nodded. “So your mom’s last name used to be Berry?”

Rachel was uneasy. It was getting too close to a topic she did not like to talk about. “I was adopted. Fabray is my adopted last name. Berry was my original last name. I didn’t want to lose it, so when my adoption was finalized, it became Berry-Fabray rather than just Fabray.”

Shelby looked at her intently. “How old were you when you were adopted?”

“Nine.”

“Can I ask what happened to…”

Rachel knew where it was going. “They died,” she said quickly. “When I was four. My mom was a good friend of one of my dads, so she brought me home with her and adopted me.”

“One of your dads?”

Rachel felt defensive. “I had gay dads.”

“Oh,” Shelby said.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a problem for you?”

“No,” Shelby said quickly. “Should it be?”

Rachel relaxed. “No,” Rachel said. “But it has been for some people.” She smiled. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“You weren’t,” Shelby said softly.

Rachel glanced at her watch and made a face. “I need to get home,” she said. “My parents are making a big deal about me eating dinner at home with them and I’m done with my shift.”

Aubrey had made a big deal of her being too skinny and now their parents were watching what she was eating like nosy hawks.

“Well,” Shelby said, smiling. “You look like you could use a homecooked meal or two. Are your parents good cooks?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “My father doesn’t go into the kitchen unless it’s to get something to eat out of the refrigerator or something to drink. My mom is a great cook though. She’s actually pretty amazing.”

Shelby smiled. “I’m glad.”

Colin came up to the counter and leaned in toward Rachel. “Hey kiddo,” he said with a smile. He leaned in close to Rachel, so close that their noses could touch if either of them moved their heads a few inches more. “I’m off in thirty minutes. Why don’t you wait around? I’ll give you a ride home. It’d take you just as long if you’re waiting for the bus.”

Rachel beamed at him. “Really? That would be great.”

“I could take you home,” Shelby offered. “And I could take you home now. You wouldn’t have to wait here or at a bus stop.”

Rachel smiled. “Really?”

Shelby glanced at Colin who was now standing upright and looked distinctly displeased and knew it was absolutely the right thing to do. He was in his early 20’s at the very least, and she didn’t trust a man who would show so much interest in a fourteen year old girl, albeit a very poised one. Rachel was still fourteen and even looked a little younger, even if she had a poise that belied her age and young appearance. She was also very very pretty and Shelby didn’t want to think about the interest young adult men wanted to show in a very pretty fourteen year old girl.

“Of course,” Shelby said. “Just direct me.”

Rachel grinned. “Thank you! Just let me get my backpack.” She grabbed it and walked around the counter. She slapped Colin on the back. “See you the day after tomorrow!”

“Sure,” Colin said. “I’m still picking you up from school, right?”

“Sure,” Rachel grinned. “See you.”

She and Shelby walked out and Rachel followed Shelby to her car.

“He seems very fond of you,” Shelby said diplomatically.

Rachel beamed. “He’s like a big brother to me. And I don’t have one, so it’s nice.”

Shelby didn’t think that was quite the case. “Do your parents know he picks you up from school and drops you off sometimes?”

Rachel blanched. “Surely you must be kidding,” she said. “They would have very lurid thoughts and misinterpret everything.”

“Mmm,” Shelby said. “Well, be careful, Rachel.”

Rachel smiled. “He’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s my friend.”

“Friends can hurt you, too, Rachel,” Shelby said gently.

Rachel’s smile dimmed. “I’m aware of that.”

\--

They’d talked a few more times when Shelby finally blurted out her suspicions while she drove Rachel home after work one day.

“I think you’re my daughter. In fact, I’m sure you are because you’re the right age to be my daughter and I answered an ad with your fathers. Your fathers are Paul and Samuel, right?”

Rachel took it surprisingly well.

“Oh,” Rachel said. “Okay.” She looked contemplative. “Colin says we look alike.”

Shelby smiled. “I think so,” she said quietly.

“And it would show my love of music was genetically predisposed.”

“Probably,” Shelby said quietly.

“Could you pull over, please?” Rachel asked politely. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

\--  
  
They put two and two together and determined that Shelby was indeed Rachel’s biological mother.

“I made a tape for you when you were born,” Shelby said quietly one night when they had dinner together after Rachel got off work. She passed it to Rachel. “I’d like you to listen to it, if you want.”

Rachel took it and listened to it that night. It was so beautiful to her, that she cried.

They only got closer after that. Rachel never mentioned Shelby to anyone in her family because she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She didn’t tell _anyone_ about Shelby because she just wanted to keep someone to herself, just for a little bit.

Rachel provided a few of the basic details of what brought Rachel to live at the Fabrays and Shelby regretted sorely that she’d still been living in New York when Rachel’s fathers were killed. If she’d lived in Lima, she would have undoubtedly heard about the murder on the news or read it in the paper-- she would have tried to file for custody herself, though it seemed like Rachel was better off with the Fabrays than she would have been with her-- it was just that she kind of still considered Rachel hers.

\--

Their relationship didn’t become mother-daughter-- Rachel already had a mother who she loved and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to see anyone other than Judy Fabray as her mother. But it was nice to see what resemblance she had to Shelby, she finally looked like someone, once she could admit there was a similarity. It mostly stayed friendly until the day Rachel pulled Shelby aside in a panic.

“Can I live with you?” Rachel asked. “My dad kicked me out of the house two months ago, and I’ve been staying with Colin, and I’m not sure it’s an entirely appropriate arrangement anymore. My mom came to see me at school today and they want me to live with my grandparents in Mansfield, but I don’t want to. I lived with them before and it wasn’t a good experience for me. But if you let me live with you, I could at least stay in the same town and maybe I wouldn’t have to change schools and--”

“Rachel,” Shelby said. “Calm down. What happened? Why did your dad kick you out?! This happened two months ago? Why are you only telling me this now? What happened?”

“Because I told him I had an abortion last year! But it just slipped out because Quinn is pregnant and Finn announced it in the most idiotic way possible and our dad was being horrible to Quinn and I just wanted to make him stop and it just _slipped out_. I never meant for anyone to know, and now Quinn is going home but they’re not letting me and I don’t know how long they’re going to make me stay with my grandparents and I _can’t_ go to them and you’re my real mom and…”

Shelby began tuning everything out. She’d had a pretty friendly relationship with Rachel for months, but it was hardly mother-daughter and she hadn’t expected to hear the little baby girl she gave up fifteen years ago was sexually active and had abortion. She just wasn’t equipped to deal with a teenager. She’d longed for her baby girl back, and she was overwhelmed with joy when she found Rachel-- it was like God laid a hand in it. But this was too much. She couldn’t handle being the mother of a teenager.

So she said no. She’d never forget the fleeting wounded, devastated expression on Rachel’s face before Rachel gave her a tiny smile.

“Oh,” Rachel said. “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said calmly. “I probably won’t see you for a while, but it was really nice meeting you. I hope I get to see you again.”

Shelby swallowed hard. “It was nice meeting you, too. Call me if you come back.”

And she didn’t see Rachel again for months and even then, it was just in passing. Rachel didn’t call. With Rachel back in Lima, Shelby slipped into Constance’s a few times to ask if Rachel was coming back to work, but Constance told her that Rachel’s father wouldn’t sign the work permit.

\--

“She found me when I was in London,” Rachel explained quietly, giving Quinn a quick and dirty rundown of her history with Shelby. “We were…out of touch by then. We started talking again and now here we are.”

In actuality, she hadn’t even _remembered_ Shelby until she got the email. She had lingering memory issues since the accident and they were worse when she was in London than they were now. She opened the email without recognizing the name, and she’d read through the whole email completely confused and bewildered, wondering who the hell this woman was, until the memory kind of crashed on her.

She didn’t want to talk about how Shelby seemed like her last frail hope when she was fifteen and needed a place to go and how she’d made herself believe everything in her life was going to be okay if she could just live with her real mother. Shelby didn’t _feel_ like her mom, but she felt like maybe she’d finally belong somewhere-- that she wouldn’t be the dark-haired, short ugly duckling in a family of tall blonde swans.

In retrospect, it was probably for the best. Shelby had clearly not been ready to be a mother to a teenager and it was a lot to ask of a person on the sport like that. But the rejection really hurt at the time, even though Rachel now felt like it was for the best. If she’d stayed with Shelby, she would have stayed in Lima and she wouldn’t have had the respite from the Slushies and insults at school that she had in Mansfield and really, her relationship with Shelby would have likely imploded. At least now they were friendly.

And when Rachel was really honest with herself, the only mother she’d ever really known was the one who fought so hard to adopt her. Judy Fabray was the only woman she’d ever truly consider to be her mother, and it was soul-crushing to think what would happen if her mother ever found out what she was doing with the woman who was supposed to be her sister.

\--

Rachel thought inviting Quinn to dinner was a tremendously bad idea primarily because she had to introduce Quinn as “my sister.”

She watched as Quinn seemed to deflate at the introduction, and really, she did, too. Quinn was quiet through dinner, but Rachel tried to make up for it by being overly cheerful and talkative.

The dinner went okay-- Shelby was nice and the kids were as sweet and charming as ever. Rachel thought the kids were gorgeous. But Shelby seemed too eager to get information about Rachel when she was younger out of Quinn and all it did was highlight the fact that they were legally sisters. Quinn was gracious and answered all the questions, carefully walking the line between humorously embarrassing Rachel with childhood antics like climbing on the roof and jumping off it to land on their parents balcony in an effort to ‘defy gravity’ to stories that would be mortifying for Rachel if they were told.

Then the bill came and when Shelby reached for it, both Rachel and Quinn grabbed it and immediately began pulling it back and forth between them, bickering over the bill.

Shelby smiled in amusement. “I bet you were always like this growing up, weren’t you? It’s nice that you guys are so close. It nice to have a sister sometimes.”

Rachel smiled at Shelby, though it hurt to be reminded of the inescapability of their dual relationship.

\--

“That was kind of rough,” Rachel said as they walked back into her apartment after dinner with Shelby.

“I thought it went okay,” Quinn said quietly. “She seems nice.”

“She is,” Rachel agreed.

“Her kids are gorgeous.”

“They are,” Rachel said affectionately. “But it…it was kind of rough. For me anyway.”

Quinn smiled weakly. “It was kind of rough for me, too,” she admitted. “It’s always going to be like this for us, isn’t it? Anytime I introduce you to someone or you introduce someone to me, it’s always going to be like this.”

Rachel sighed. “Probably. And Mom and Dad would both die. Probably Aubrey, too.”

“This is so unfair,” Quinn whispered. “I found you, but you’re my _sister_.” She made a face and shuddered.

“This is bad,” Rachel agreed. “We should stop . We should just…” she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “LA is your home,” she said softly. “I should leave. I could ask to be released from my contract and I could move back to New York.”

“Wouldn’t you get sued?”

“Probably, but I don’t care about that.”

“So what do we do?” Quinn asked, stricken. “We go back to the way things were? We don’t talk? We only communicate through email? We don’t see each other anymore?”

Rachel looked resigned. “I can’t be around you after everything that happened. You’re not my sister. I never looked at you like that and I can’t start now. We need to just…cut this off.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “It sounds like your mind is made up.”

“It’s not,” Rachel said quietly. “I…I think I could live like this if it’s with you. It’d be hard, but I think I could do it, even if it meant hiding it from everyone forever. It just seems really hard,” Rachel added bleakly. “It’s hard _now_.”

“I think I could live like this, too,” Quinn offered softly. “It’s not so bad. At least I have you, at least you don’t hate me. At least you talk to me. It’s more than I had in years. I can do this.”

“It’s just a really hard way to live,” Rachel reminded gently.

“I can do this,” Quinn whispered. “I can do this,” she repeated, a little more strongly. “Can you?”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said.

\--

Rachel had her first nightmare in a long time that night. Her moans were low and pained-- “Daddy. Daddy,” and when Quinn gently shook Rachel awake, Quinn expected Rachel to pull away and leave, but even so, she still reached out to pull Rachel close.

This time, Rachel didn’t squirm or push Quinn away. This time, she curled into Quinn.

Rachel pressed her hands over her mouth as she cried. Quinn stroked her hair and tried to soothe her as best as she could. Quinn kissed Rachel on the nose and held Rachel close.

It took a few minutes for Rachel to calm down, but when she did she rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “I don’t know why I can’t stop crying. You’d think I should be used to it. Why do I keep crying?”

“I don’t know, baby,” Quinn said softly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” Rachel whispered. She buried her face into Quinn again.

“Okay,” Quinn said, stroking Rachel’s hair. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

But that night, more than twenty years after it happened, Rachel found herself haltingly telling someone about what she remembered from the day her parents died for the very first time.


	14. Maneuvering Landmines

Title: Maneuvering Landmines  
word count: 5215

Chapter 14

  
Things became more intense after that as they bridged the gaps of misunderstandings and tried to sooth the mutual hurt of their long shared history together.

“It shouldn’t have gotten so bad between us,” Rachel said quietly.

“No,” Quinn admitted. “It shouldn’t have.” She paused. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, too,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry I thought such terrible things about you. I’m sorry I thought you were the kind of person who would…” she faltered. “Send people after me. I’m sorry that I kept holding the past against you and forced myself to believe you were the same person as an adult that you were when you were just some scared kid. And it really wasn’t so bad.”

“I was terrible to you.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “But it wasn’t so much the Slushies and the insults. It was more the fact that it was you.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered, feeling terrible.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Rachel said honestly. “I just meant, it could have been anyone else-- it could have been _everyone_ else, it would have been okay. It only hurt so much because it was you. But now that I know why you did it…” she trailed off. “I guess it kind of hurts less now than I know why.”

“ _I_ still feel terrible,” Quinn said softly.

“Well, _you_ should,” Rachel said with a toothy grin. “You have a lot to make up to me.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and hit Rachel with a throw pillow. “You dummy.”

Rachel smiled. “I think it’s a good sign if we can joke about it, don’t you?” she asked softly. “I really want us to be able to joke about it sometime.”

A lump rose in Quinn’s throat and she swallowed with difficulty. “Me too.”

\--

But Quinn never thought it was particularly funny. Rachel tried not to bring it up, but every once in a while, it just seemed to kind of come up naturally, and even then Quinn couldn’t laugh.

One day, Rachel finished taking a shower and had just put on some toner, moisturizer and lotion when Quinn burst into the bedroom, carrying Rachel’s laptop.

“Hey,” Rachel greeted. “Finish checking your email?”

“What the fuck is all this?” Quinn hissed, setting the laptop on the bed.

“What?”

Rachel looked at her laptop which was open to her Mozilla browser. She watched as Quinn went to the bookmarked favorites and clicked on the folder marked ‘read.’ Rachel flushed with embarrassment.

“Why are you bookmarking this trash?” Quinn demanded.

“Why are you invading my privacy?” Rachel asked quietly.

“Answer the question!”

“Answer mine.”

Quinn clenched her jaw. She’d borrowed Rachel’s computer to check her personal email. Work had been so crazy lately that she’d sorely neglected her personal email. But when she typed in the ‘y’ for yahoo.com, Mozilla found an automatic fill for Rachel Berr **y**. She clicked on that link, thinking she could mock Rachel for being vainglorious, but instead she found a harsh review from Rachel’s early career. So she went through the entire folder the link contained, the one marked, ‘read’ and all she found were negative criticism, malicious gossips, petty swipes at Rachel’s appearance and cruel comments. She’d bookmarked an online community which was apparently devoted to how much they hated Rachel.

Quinn looked for some balance-- she looked for all the superlative raves she’d read about Rachel over the years, all the glowing reviews and praise beginning from when she was a student at Julliard performing primarily in school productions and off-Broadway plays to her current role as Lucy Trask. But she didn’t find it. Of all those bookmarked webpages, not _one_ was complimentary or even civil-- it was all harsh, castigating, denigrating-- cruel.

Quinn found the review of one of Rachel’s movies, the one that made her bristle all those years ago when she read it, the one in which the catty reviewer wrote that sharpest thing in the movie was Rachel’s visible vertebrae. There were no bookmarked reviews which praised Rachel’s performance in that movie, the way multiple people commented on how Rachel’s face was painfully expressive. There was no bookmarked review of how sublime Rachel’s _Wicked_ performances were or the way people raved about her adorable Tony award acceptance speech or how beautiful her dress was-- Rachel had managed to find the one person who put down everything from her dress to her overall appearance to her speech and saved it.

“I wasn’t invading your privacy, I just found it,” Quinn said through clenched teeth. “Mozilla did that automatic fill.”

“Oh.”

“What the fuck, Rachel? Why did you save all that? Who the hell cares what some asshole with a blog thinks about you? You won a Tony!”

Rachel crossed her arms. “I feel it’s important to be informed of a balanced view of one’s career.”

“Then why didn’t you bookmark anything positive?”

Rachel gave her a toothy smile. “I don’t need to, I keep all glowing praise right here,” Rachel said, theatrically patting her heart.

“Delete them,” Quinn said. “Right now, delete them.”

Rachel’s smile faded. “No.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’ as in the opposite of ‘yes.’ I mean ‘no’ as in ‘no, I won’t do what you tell me.’ You can’t tell me what to do. Who do you think you are? I’m entitled to know what people say about me!”

“Get rid of it!”

“No!”

“Why did you bookmark it?” Quinn asked, begging for an answer that wouldn’t be completely awful. “I get reading it-- but why did you have to bookmark it?”

Rachel stared stonily at her, arms crossed. The truth was, Santana was right about her-- she was a masochist. She’d spent most of her life thinking people hated her, thought ill of her and talked meanly about her behind her back. Her career had thus far gone so well-- it was everything she dreamed, even if she hadn’t yet accomplished all that she wanted to, she felt like she had time. But sometimes it all felt too good to be true, like it was a dream she was going to wake up from, and the only way she could convince herself that it was real was when she actively sought out all the negative criticism. Knowing there were people out there who thought she was hideous, untalented, arrogant, superficial, fake, overrated or every other mean or critical thing people had written about her made her feel like all of it was real. As long as there were people who thought she was a piece of crap, who basically put in writing what she already thought about herself, she knew the life she’d built for herself was real. It had to be real because if it were a part of her imagination, it would be perfect and no one could say such things about her.

“Quinn, every actress has to deal with people hating her.” She paused. “Well, except Kate Winslet. No one hates Kate Winslet.”

“Well, yeah,” Quinn said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s Kate Winslet.” She scowled. “Don’t distract me! Why are you saving this shit?! Mom would _kill_ you if she found out!”

Rachel knew their mother would. “Don’t you dare tell her!” she said. She rubbed her face. “I just…I don’t want to explain myself to you about this, okay? This is personal for me and you just need to accept that. I’m _not_ deleting them because you told me to.”

“Well, do you read them all the time?” Quinn asked. “Are you actively looking for mean stuff about you?”

The answer to both questions was yes. She read through the articles at least once every other day and she searched for herself regularly, particularly with publications and journalists she knew hated her.

She was going to say ‘no,’ but she hesitated for too long and then she knew that Quinn knew.

“Oh Rachel,” Quinn whispered. “Oh, baby.”

Rachel didn’t know what to say to that.

\--

Nothing seemed easy for them, but Rachel had to admit they both knew what they were getting into, and each of them had given the other ample opportunities to bring an end to it or to back out, but neither had taken it.

\--

“I think we need to tell Mom and Dad,” Quinn said. “We’re not going to split up. We’re going to have to tell them.”

Rachel was terrified, but she agreed.

“I’ve researched it, you know,” Rachel said quietly. “I mean, about our situation.”

Quinn chuckled affectionately. “Of course you did. What did you use as your Google search term? ‘Adopted siblings falling in love?’” she teased.

“Actually, those were the precise terms I used.”

Quinn shook her head. “I feel like that guy in _The Royal Tenenbaums_.”

Rachel was pleased. “You must have done research, too, because that movie came up in my research, although it’s obvious that you would be the Margot to my Ritchie, even though Margot was the one adopted. It’s a character thing.”

Quinn was unamused. “Fine. But you’re the Heathcliff to my Catherine Earnshaw.”

Rachel was insulted by the implication. “You think I’m like Heathcliff?”

“You’re dark and twistier than I am.”

“I am not!”

Quinn smiled fondly. “I’ve known you since we were four, baby. You may have fooled the rest of the world into thinking you’re relentless cheerful, but you can’t fool me. And really, the analogy sort of suits us.”

Rachel chuckled softly. “Okay,” she agreed. “Maybe a little. But don’t leave me for someone else and then die and I won’t beg your ghost to haunt me.”

“I don’t feel like such a freak knowing that we aren’t the only ones,” Quinn said. “If people have written about it, you know it must have happened to _someone_.” She smiled sadly. “I used to think I was such a freak for how I felt about you.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly, remembering all the nights they cried together about how their mutual attraction had tormented and anguished their younger selves. “Me too.” She smiled hesitantly. “You really want to tell them?”

“No,” Quinn said bluntly. “But I think we have to.”

“Okay.”

\--

They went home to Lima to see their parents to tell them in person. They were understandably and predictably horrified.

Their father was enraged.

They were told to leave, which they did.

Aubrey called each of them and could only repeat “gross” over and over again.

“God, what am I going to tell the girls?” Aubrey wondered when she finally found the ability to use other words. “How do I tell them their aunts are in love with _each other_.”

Their mother called Quinn a few weeks later.

“Quinnie, I suspected you were a lesbian, but there are billions of women in the world you could date who aren’t your sister.”

“What made you suspect?” Quinn asked.

She’d always been so careful.

“Well, you never brought anyone home to meet us since _Finn_.”

If the situation weren’t so bleak, Quinn would have laughed.

“Does Daddy know?”

“Your father is not a stupid man, Quinnie.”

Quinn’s laughter turned to tears. “I love her, Mom.”

“Quinnie, baby. I know you think you’ve loved her since you were little, but--”

“I have, Mom. Since that first day.”

“She’s family, Quinn. She’ll always be family. You can’t do this. It’s not right. Have you thought about what would happen if you break up?”

Quinn was quiet. They had talked a lot about it. It was a fear for both of them.

“Quinnie,” Judy said softly. “Rachel is very damaged. She witnessed her fathers murders, her grandparents were very abusive to her and she lost someone she loved deeply. She’s not thinking right, but _you_ need to. You can’t do this to her, you can’t do this to yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Judy laughed bitterly. “You’re both my daughters,” she said. “How can this be?”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Rachel comforted Quinn the best she could after Quinn finished talking to their mother. Their mother wasn’t even talking to her, which really, in Rachel’s mind, was to be expected.

“Why did this happen to us?” Quinn sobbed. “Why did we have to be _sisters_? We would have met eventually! And everything would have been okay!”

“I don’t know,” Rachel answered softly. She’d spent many sleepless nights wondering about this. If only her fathers had lived….things would be so different.

That night Rachel and Quinn spent an hour breaking eggs in their hands over the kitchen sink.

“This is really wasteful,” Quinn commented, “and I don’t know how you can do this considering you’re a vegan, but you’re right, it really is cathartic.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to break stuff.”

Quinn had to agree.

\--

Given their family’s reactions, Rachel and Quinn couldn’t tell anyone else for fear of similar reaction. Their mother had described their relationship as ‘unseemly.’

But eventually, Rachel told Santana and Quinn told Brittany and their friends’ reactions were predictably blasé.

“Well,” Santana said. “That’s pretty gross, but at least neither of you have to worry about protecting your inheritances from your partner since you’ll both get your inheritance from the same pot.” She paused. “Unless your parents disown you both.”

Brittany was matter-of-fact. “And just think if you’d gotten this over with back when we were in middle school, we could have double-dated.”

They told the people closest to them, which essentially meant their immediate family, Brittany and Santana. They weren’t afraid any of them would go to the media.

Rachel wasn’t sure if they’d ever be ready to take their relationship public, but for now, it was okay that their close friends knew and were supportive and their family knew because they had to know-- even if they were angry with them for it.

What she knew was this: she and Quinn had fought long and hard to be with one another and it would never be easy between them.

But they knew that and accepted it. If they wanted something easier, they could have gone their separate ways.

“Easy is for people who don’t love well enough,” Rachel sniffed superciliously.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut _up_ ,” she said, swatting at Rachel’s stomach as they watched a rerun of the episode of Rachel’s show in which her character is nearly drowned. “You’re Queen of the Masochists. I can’t believe you filmed that scene.”

Rachel chuckled.”I wasn’t actually in danger of dying, you know.”

Quinn shook her head. “At least you aren’t jumping off buildings in this episode,” she commented. “Why do you insist on doing your own stunts?” She really did not enjoy the bruises and cuts Rachel got from doing her own stunts, especially because Rachel took such ghoulish glee showing them off.

“It’s fun,” Rachel said a little defensively. She’d always been able to handle physical pain or discomfort better than emotional discomfort. She had to admit the primary reason she wanted a show that focused so much on action was that she knew she’d have some rough physical days and when she’d auditioned for the show, she’d had a multitude of bad emotional days. She didn’t need it as much anymore, but it was still nice.

“Can’t you just sit in front of a computer and type aggressively? They could have exciting music in the background to build suspense.”

Rachel laughed and smoothed her thumb across Quinn’s fretful eyebrow. "They want to do a musical episode next season, which I’m simultaneously looking forward to because I’m sure it will be fun, and dreading because _every_ show does a musical episode and I resent that my show has fallen into the cliché so quickly.”

“So more songs, less stunts?” Quinn asked hopefully

Rachel pouted. “For me anyway, the network isn’t letting me do them anymore next season. They think it’s a liability after I broke that rib that time. They say they don’t want me to get hurt.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Sounds reasonable enough to me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes as well. “’Sounds reasonable enough to me,’” she mimicked.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Quinn stared at Rachel, aggrieved. Rachel grinned at Quinn and Quinn couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m not opposed to something that will keep you safe, you know,” Quinn said.

Rachel smiled. “You sound like my agent _and_ my attorney.”

Quinn stroked Rachel’s cheek. “Well, someone has to watch out for you. I can’t do it all the time. You do spend an inordinate amount of time away from me. It’s nice to know someone is watching out for you while you’re on set to keep you from jumping off buildings and out of moving cars.”

“The moving car was just that one time.”

Quinn chuckled. “You’re a terrible driver,” she said. “I wonder if I should start practicing leaping out of a moving car.”

Rachel chuckled. “That’s why I took my jetpack here instead of my car.”

Quinn blinked. “You have a jetpack?”

“Sure, baby. It’s on my back now, it’s just invisible.” Rachel put her hands out, Superman style. “Wee.”

Quinn was unamused. “You don’t have to mock.”

“I’m not mocking. I’m enjoying my jetpack.”

“Shut up,” Quinn said, cheeks pink. She didn’t know why she thought Rachel had a jetpack. It was a momentary misfire of brain synapses.

“I know you only want to watch out for me,” Rachel said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, still a little miffed.

Rachel reached for one of Quinn’s hands and laced their fingers together. “Do you want to move in together?” she asked quietly. “I mean, we spend most of our time together anyway and that way you can make sure I don’t start a conflagration in the kitchen that eventually destroys LA.”

Quinn chuckled softly. “Me move in with you or you move in with me?”

“We could always buy something new together and start new.”

“That’d be nice,” Quinn said wistfully. “That sounds good.”

\--

Life was neither fair nor perfect and so their lives weren’t fair, perfect or even particularly easy, either.

There’d been a raging argument one night shortly after they moved into their new townhome over the topic of children.

Quinn always knew she wanted children-- even though she’d given one child away, she always knew she wanted to experience that feeling of intense love for some tiny little human again (well, a tiny little human other than Rachel). She just assumed Rachel felt the same way and so one day when they were watching a show about women who didn’t know they were pregnant, until they delivered a baby into a toilet or whatever, Quinn chuckled and said, “Aren’t we lucky that will never happen to us?”

Rachel chuckled. “Definitely.”

“I mean, when we have kids, we’ll _know_.”

“I don’t want kids,” Rachel said flatly.

Quinn stared at her. “You don’t want kids?”

“No.”

Oh God, this is what their mother meant by Rachel always being family. They could break up and then what? And she _really_ wanted kids eventually. This was a really big thing not to agree on, it wasn’t like disagreeing over whether or not to keep bacon in the fridge.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t,” Rachel said.

“But why?” Quinn pressed. “You must have a reason. Do you not want to get pregnant? Because I’ll do it. Or we can adopt or--”

“It’s nothing related to that. I just don’t want them.”

“Are you afraid of what kind of parent you’d be? Because I know you’d be awesome and--”

“Of course I’d be awesome,” Rachel said. “Why would I have any doubts about my ability to parent? I just don’t want kids, Quinn.”

“I want them,” Quinn said quietly.

“Well, I don’t.”

“But _why_?”Quinn pressed.

“Because I just don’t, Quinn! And anyway, how are we going to explain to these hypothetical children of ours that legally we have the same mom and dad? Or all of our early family photos? Or--”

“Okay,” Quinn interrupted softly. “If you…feel that strongly about it, I’ll…we don’t have to have kids,” she said wistfully. “But I really wanted them and I need to know why you don’t want kids. If I’m going to give that up, I need to know more than you just don’t.”

Rachel looked away. “I…I don’t know,” she admitted.”I just…” she trailed off as she contemplated it. She lost her fathers and couldn’t remember them, even though she now believed she’d never spoken about them to Quinn, so maybe she’d never remembered them. How could she be a parent when she couldn’t remember her parents? Her grandmother told her she was an abomination who never should have been born, and that didn’t inspire a lot of confidence that she should be a part of the world gene pool. She felt like her adoptive parents always chose Quinn’s side over hers when Quinn tormented her, which didn’t build confidence in her ability to inspire love. Quinn told her she should be sterilized when they were teenagers, which made her feel like she had no right to have kids. Her birth mother rejected her once she got to know her, and she’d never quite gotten over that sting. She never quite found a place where she felt like she belonged which made her doubt her ability to build a home for herself or for anyone else. She had extremely negative associations with being pregnant considering how she’d gotten pregnant for the first and only time and so she feared pregnancy. None of those things made her feel like she should bring another life into the world.

“Rach?” Quinn prompted gently.

“I need to go,” Rachel croaked out, standing up.

Quinn stood up and grabbed Rachel by the arm. “No,” she said quietly. “I’m not letting you run away so you can think up some excuse that seems plausible. Tell me why you don’t want kids. I’m willing to give that up. You are the _only_ person I’d give that up for-- tell me the truth! I deserve to know!”

“I need to go,” Rachel whispered, trying to yank her arm away.

“No,” Quinn said. “Tell me why! We don’t have to have kids-- I’ll be happy with you. Just you. But I deserve to know the truth! You can’t make me give that up and not tell me the truth. It’s not fair.”

Rachel sank down into the couch. Quinn sat down next to her.

“Don’t make me say it,” Rachel said quietly.

“I need to know,” Quinn said. “Please. I need to know. I’ll always wonder if you don’t tell me.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Rachel whispered. “I…” she trailed off. It was humiliating to realize all the people who thought at one time or another that she was worthless-- and these were some of the people closest to her, so it made it that much more painful. “I’ll…” she cleared her throat. “I’ll write it down for you.”

“Okay,” Quinn whispered.

Rachel went into the spare bedroom with a pen and pad of paper and came back out an hour later, dead-eyed and blank-faced. “Here,” she said, handing Quinn one sheet of paper. “Burn it or something after you finish reading it,” she said. “I need some air.”

She left the townhome and didn’t come back until early the next morning. Quinn was waiting for her on the couch.

“I think we need some help,” Quinn said quietly, starting at her hands. She’d read what Rachel wrote. It was very matter-of-fact, a laundry list of things that made Quinn cry and ache with remorse for her hand in it. It felt like karma that she had a hand in putting one of the things she wanted most out of her reach.

Rachel swallowed hard. She couldn’t look Quinn in the eyes. “I think you’re right.”

\--

Therapy wasn’t a panacea-- it didn’t cure or fix _anything_ , all it really did was bring issues they knew were simmering into a boil. They went intensively for a couple months and then mutually agreed to stop-- it really wasn’t for them. They’d grown up hearing that it was for weak-minded and the weak-willed and neither of them could quite get over that.

But it wasn’t a waste of time either, because it did help, even if it was just a little bit.

“You don’t have to give up anything for me,” Rachel whispered to Quinn one night. “I…I don’t think I want kids, but I know I’d love them. I just need some time to sort things out.”

“We don’t have to have them right now,” Quinn whispered back.

“I know.”

\--

And so they went on that way, together for days, weeks, and months. Some days were struggles, some days were not-- just like with any other person and every other couple and the uniqueness of their circumstances weren’t so unique when they realized they were just two people in love the way any other two people were in love.

Their lives together were still private, hidden from the public, but revealed to a select group in each of their social circles who were supportive. It didn’t seem so bad to keep things a secret, after all, it wasn’t so unusual for other people in the public eye to guard their relationships as fiercely and closely as possible and Rachel desperately wanted to protect her relationship with Quinn. And besides, people seemed to think they were entitled to invading her private life and she wasn’t about to invite any scrutiny or judgment-- good or bad into her relationship with Quinn.

Every couple is different, but every couple is the same, too. Rachel didn’t think they were any better or worse than any other couple

She was happy and Quinn was happy and that was what mattered.

She’d spent a lot of her life going through the motions of living, feeling relieved she’d been blessed enough never to feel the extreme highs and lows-- at least, she wouldn’t let herself believe she felt the extreme highs and lows. She spent years feeling blank and muted, with everything blunted. All her feelings were just sort of in the middle. She’d been grateful for that because it seemed like the better alternative to all those years she spent feeling _too_ much. She felt too much, wanted too much, hurt too much until she felt nothing, wanted nothing and told herself the hurting stopped.

She didn’t want to live like that anymore. She didn’t want to stamp out that whoop of joy she felt when her girl told her ‘I love you,’ because she didn’t dare hope it was true. She _believed_ it was true now and she let herself feel that spark that twisted her stomach and made her grin stupidly.

It was horrifically and embarrassingly cliché, but being in love felt magical and if something _felt_ magical, then it was magical.

She wanted the cliché. The girl, the house, the kids, the dog, the fights over whose turn it was to wash the dishes, the arguments over money and how-could-you-get- _another_ -speeding-ticket-my-God-you’re-a-menace, the make-up sex, the raucous laughter, sleeping in on the weekends, the fueling of coffee addiction, debates on what to TiVo-- she wanted all of it, big and small, the universal clichés and the things that were specific to them.

She wanted all of it.

\--

“His name is Mortimer Blue Douglass,” the young mother said proudly.

Quinn smiled down at the baby in the stroller. “He’s beautiful.”

He really was, just incredibly unfortunately named.

“He’s gorgeous,” Rachel added, smiling at the other woman and passing her the planner that she’d signed. The woman had just approached her out of the blue for an autograph, but didn’t have anything to sign other than a day planner. Rachel didn’t mind.

“Thank you!” the woman gushed.

They chatted for a few minutes and then Rachel took Quinn by the arm. “Come on, _sis_ ,” she teased as she led the blonde away.

They were at a point when they could joke about that a little bit and not have it hurt so much. Maybe if they could just joke about it a little more, it’d stop hurting and they could stop feeling the shame.

Once they were far enough away, Rachel leaned in close. “We will never name our kids something so unfortunate. Colors for names are strictly verboten.”

Quinn chuckled. “Agreed.” She paused.”Our kids, huh?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. She chose not to make the topic heavier than it should be. “I’m also not very fond of names after major cities or countries.”

“Well,” Quinn said. “I don’t blame you. I say when it actually comes time to naming these children, we should have eight choices each that we can nix without complaint or comment.”

Rachel looked contemplative. She just knew Quinn would use that against her, but arguing over what to name one’s child seemed like the sort of thing other people got to do, and why shouldn’t they have what other people have?

“Agreed,” Rachel said finally.

They both wanted it all and it didn’t seem so unreasonable or out of reach. It seemed exactly the sort of thing they should be able to have.

\--

The months turned into years and nothing they really wanted seemed elusive or out-of-reach.

Times were kind and unkind, imperfect and perfect, peaceful and argumentative, but always they were together.

“You were four and I just turned five,” Quinn said. “Do you remember what I told you?”

Rachel chuckled. “You told me, ‘you’re my favorite.’”

“And then you told me, ‘you’re my favorite, too’ See? We knew. Even back then, we knew.”

Rachel nodded. “We were wiser then.”

“We were,” Quinn agreed. “But you’re still my favorite.”

“You’re still my favorite, too.”

And they both knew all the things they wanted ( _really_ wanted) were just waiting in line to happen.

\--

Rachel put her arm around her girl as they sat on their couch on their first house. She put a hand to Quinn’s belly and thought about their first kid who was due to arrive in a month.

“Stop rubbing just that one side,” Quinn said irritably.

Rachel laughed gently. Pregnancy hormones, what a nightmare.

“Sorry,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss Quinn’s belly. “Hello, darling,” she murmured to Quinn’s growing belly. “Do you have something you would like to tell me?” She put her ear to Quinn’s belly and paused as she listened. “Oh, okay.” She sat up and grinned. “Our child would like me to inform you that though rubbing the same spot on your belly may be somewhat repetitively off-putting for you, the little Nibblet would like to make you aware of the fact he quite enjoys the attention as he finds it extremely soothing to be reminded of how much I loved him.”

Quinn chuckled. “He said all that just then? Wow. This _is_ your kid, you could never deny parentage.”

“Damn straight.”

The past few months had been scary and anxiety-filled.

She rubbed Quinn’s shoulder and had a sudden realization that she wasn’t afraid anymore. She couldn’t wait for everything that was coming next, and she truly believed…

They finally made it.

The End


End file.
